


Implicit Love

by CR11



Category: BLACKPINK (Band), GOT7, Red Velvet (K-pop Band), TWICE (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Affairs, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arrogance, Bad Decisions, Best Friends, Boys In Love, Bromance, Bromance to Romance, Bullying, Cheating, Childhood Friends, Closeted Character, College, Comedy, Comfort/Angst, Crush at First Sight, Cute, Cute Jeon Jungkook, Cute Min Yoongi | Suga, Cute Park Jimin, Dark, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Drama, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Falling In Love, First Dates, First Love, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Friends with Benefits Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gay Male Character, Gen, Heavy Angst, High School, Homosexuality, Hurt Kim Taehyung | V, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Innocence, Jeon Jungkook Is Bad at Feelings, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope & Min Yoongi | Suga Are Best Friends, Kim Taehyung | V & Park Jimin Are Best Friends, Kim Taehyung | V Is a Little Shit, Light Angst, Love, Love Triangles, Love at First Sight, Lovers to Friends, Lust, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Homosexuality, Male-Female Friendship, Memories, Mentioned Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster, Mentioned Kim Seokjin | Jin, Mentioned Park Jimin, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Min Yoongi | Suga, POV Alternating, POV First Person, POV Jeon Jungkook, POV Kim Taehyung | V, POV Male Character, Park Jimin Is a Sweetheart, Past Relationship(s), Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Popularity, Pre-Relationship, Psychological Drama, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rebels, Relationship(s), Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Romantic Soulmates, Sad, School, Secret Crush, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Self Confidence, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem, Self-Esteem Issues, Shy Jeon Jungkook, Shyness, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smitten Jeon Jungkook, Sweet, Sweet Jeon Jungkook, Sweet/Hot, Teasing, Threats, Toxic Relationship, True Love, Twisted, Undecided Relationship(s), Unhealthy Relationships, University, University Student Jeon Jungkook, University Student Kim Taehyung | V, University Student Park Jimin, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust, taekook, vkook
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-10 20:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10446405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CR11/pseuds/CR11
Summary: What do two strangers have in common? Not much, except that they're both suffering from the same love problem. Kim Taehyung has always loved his best friend, Lee Sungkyung, while Jeon Jungkook has fallen for a classmate who already has a girlfriend. Taehyung and Jungkook happen to be classmates in university and see each other often on campus. So what happens when fate strings the two together?





	1. The Devil and the Angel

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I'd give a little heads-up that this is a slow burn fan fiction. Some characters like Hoseok and Yoongi might not show up until later in the story, so please be patient. The tags are not misleading; the characters will appear in the later chapters. The same goes for the pairings. Also, I think it's fair to list the fandoms involved though they might not have as major as of a role compared to BTS. 
> 
> Thank you for your understanding and for your patience!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've included this note in the beginning of this story, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to put this note in front of every chapter. 
> 
> This is a slow burn fan fiction. Some characters like Hoseok and Yoongi do not show up until later in the story, so please be patient with me. The tags are not misleading! The characters will appear in the later chapters. The same goes for the pairings. Also, I think it's fair to list the fandoms involved though they might not have as major as of a role compared to BTS. Minor characters are just as important as major ones in my opinion.
> 
> Thank you for your understanding and for your patience!

“Taehyung! What do you think? Would Namjoon like this?” There’s Lee Sungkyung lifting up a green sweater and now placing it along my chest to see if it fits . . . him. I don’t even know why I agreed to go shopping with her for this idiotic present. “Tae Tae, say something. I don’t want Namjoon to be—“  
  
“It’s ugly.”  
  
Sungkyung immediately puffs her cheeks while folding her arms together. “See, Taehyung? That’s why you haven’t gotten a girlfriend yet! With that attitude of—“  
  
I tug her wrist towards me and whisper in her ear, “Do you really want to know why I don’t have a girlfriend?” I see her cheeks boiling with redness; I can’t help but laugh at her. She’s so pathetic, I think. If she’s getting embarrassed when I touch her, then what happens if Namjoon . . . I scratch that thought out of my head. I’m getting pathetic now, so I let go of her and add, “It’s so fun to see you squirm like that. I honestly don’t get what Namjoon sees in you.”  
  
“Kim Taehyung! You are so immature, so stupid, so annoying! You’re the worst!” she shouts as I start to exit the store. “I don’t get why you’re my best friend!”  
  
That’s right. I’m her best friend, and I have been ever since high school. We’ve been through everything together. I’ve told her about my parents’ divorce. She told me about her insecurities. She can change her clothes in my room, and she has before. That’s how much she trusts me.  
  
I let out a sigh as the warm sunlight shines on my face. It’s almost dawn and the end of summer. After this summer, we’ll be off to university. She and I will attend the same school; she’d be studying Italian while I’ll be focusing on business. Namjoon, on the other hand, will be in another province majoring in international relations. He wants to be an ambassador like his father.   
  
And this is why we’re here at this clothing store. She wants to give him a good luck charm for the new school year, and I’m supposed to be the one giving her luck. I think I need it more than her. After all these years, my wish has never come true. I doubt it will anyhow. She’s always going to be thinking about another guy. She’ll never look at me in that way because to her, I’ll always be the devil.  
  
Taehyung the Devil. That’s what people always liked to say about me. I don’t really blame them. It’s pretty catchy, and they’re kind of right. I’m not that nice. In fact, I persuaded Sungkyung to attend her university for the program, yet deep down, I wanted her to be away from Namjoon. Yes, follow your dreams, Sungkyung, I told her. I’m sure Namjoon will understand. Yes, I’m sure distance won’t hurt you guys. You’ll have the chance to mature. I forgot to add that she’d be maturing with me by her side.  
  
“Taehyung! Wait up!” Sungkyung starts to shout at me.   
  
I hear her running feet, and that makes me purposely walk a bit faster. I even pretend that I don’t hear her as I insert my ear buds into my ear. Then, I randomly pick a song to distract my mind. There’s some heavy bass coming from the pianist’s keys. I feel the demon coming. With his pitchfork, he’ll chase after me. He knows what I’m doing is wrong and immoral, but . . . I . . .  
  
My eyes are suddenly fixated at this boy's gaze. He's sitting at a restaurant across from this street. He's looking straight ahead, but I know he's not looking at me. His eyes aren’t burning. They’re rather dark and dull. There’s no life in this boy because he is giving all of her life to one thing. No, I’m wrong; I realize this once I look to my right. He is investing all of her energy to this one man seated with another lady at an ice cream shop. I now understand why he is staring, and that’s when I feel the pain in my chest.  
  
He's just like me.  
  
Then, out of the blue, I feel a tug on my sleeve. “Finally,” I hear Sungkyung panting, “I’ve caught up to you. Ha. . . ha . . . Why are you smiling Taehyung? You’re creeping me out. It’s gross.”  
  
I feel my smile growing wider, and finally, I tell Sungkyung, “Don’t worry. I wasn’t smiling at you.”  
  
“Good. That’d be so gross.”  
  
I joke, “I know right? If I ever fell for you, then the world would end.”  
  
Indeed, the world is always ending for me in my head, and I just spend every day not even hoping for a result. Whatever we have right now is perfectly fine. If I wait it out, then she’ll know who she should choose in the end. That’s what a nice guy would think. For me, I know my opportunity is arriving soon, and I’m going to take it as is.  
  
“Taehyung!” Sungkyung pounds my back several times. “You’re honestly the devil!”

* * *

  
  
Every Saturday afternoon, I like to people watch at a local subway store. I think it’s perfect for finding characters to write about for a story. I’m no famous writer though. I’m just writing fiction online with a few readers here and there. There’s really nothing else exciting in my life, and so I bring my imagination into my stories, except lately, I’ve been too busy watching a certain guy, Kim Yugyeom.   
  
He was a classmate of mine at school, but we were in different homerooms. He wasn’t exactly popular; however, he wasn’t a loner either. He had his own group of friends and was considered to be a smart guy. He’d usually rank within the top ten for our midterms and exams. I’d still be ahead of him, of course. The only reason that I paid attention to him originally was that he could have been one of my competitors. We were both aiming for the same university and I wanted the teacher to recommend me instead.  
  
I remember begging the teacher to choose me. I worked harder than anyone, I told her. She knew it too, but she felt Yugyeom had a lot of potential. Luckily, Yugyeom overheard our conversation and personally asked for the teacher to select me. I didn’t even get a chance to thank him. I didn’t know how either. Slowly, though, I learned bits and pieces about him from a few friends. He was the library monitor too, so I’d visit the library often. We even chatted a couple of times, and from one of our conversations, he told me that he worked at a local ice cream shop every Saturday. I guess that was how it all started, how I started to watch him. He never knew, of course, that I was watching. He was too busy working and . . . entertaining his girlfriend, Minatozaki Sana.  
  
I actually don’t know much about her besides the usual gossip. From her school uniform, I deduced that she was from a rich school, an all-girls school that was pretty much for the elite. I overheard some of my classmates saying how she was the granddaughter of a famous beer company and how she occasionally modeled for magazines. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were a model. She had long legs, a nice chest and a cute smile. She was really a sweet, sweet girl. She kind of reminded me of . . .  
  
“Taehyung! Wait up!”  
  
I hear a girl with long, wavy hair shouting at a tall boy, who seems too cool to care. He is wearing a black cross earring on his right ear along with tight, red plaid pants and black military boots. His hair is parted in the middle and is to his ears. With that look of his, he reminds me of the leader singer of some underground rock star. He honestly attracts too much attention for my liking. Now, he even starts to walk a bit faster. I think he’s purposely making her chase. With that smirk of his, he likes every minute of attention he’s getting from her. I wonder if he’s just sadistic or if there’s . . .  
  
Our eyes meet each other’s briefly. His bright yet sly eyes bring a shock to my heart. It’s not the type that Yugyeom brings. Instead, I feel that pang of remorse and somehow, I feel there’s something devilish and familiar about this guy. I just feel like I’ve seen him before, but where? I know it’s rude to stare at a stranger any longer, so I continue to watch Yugyeom. There he is feeding her again during his lunch break. He’s treating her to her favourite ice cream, vanilla sprinkled with chocolate flakes. He’s gazing at her with his loving eyes and stupendous smile. Every time he grins, I can’t resist smiling either. Only he seems to bring a smile to my face so easily.  
  
I don’t mind watching him like this. As long as Yugyeom is happy, then I’ll be glad. Yes, as long as Yugyeom is . . .  
  
“Jungkook, if you keep watching him, he’ll never know who you are.”  
  
That’s Kaoru, the manager of this place. She knows my orders exactly and understands what I have been doing. In fact, I’m pretty sure she pities me. I’m just a guy with a case of unrequited love. If that’s the case, then I should be sad. I’m not though. I like admiring him from afar. It’s safer this way. It’s way better than that guy across from me. Taehyung?  
  
That girl has finally touched his arm, and from the way he’s smiling, I know that he’s suffering. He’s just like me.


	2. Exchanges

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've included this note in the beginning of this story, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to put this note in front of every chapter. 
> 
> This is a slow burn fan fiction. Some characters like Hoseok and Yoongi do not show up until later in the story, so please be patient with me. The tags are not misleading! The characters will appear in the later chapters. The same goes for the pairings. Also, I think it's fair to list the fandoms involved though they might not have as major as of a role compared to BTS. Minor characters are just as important as major ones in my opinion.
> 
> Thank you for your understanding and for your patience!

Can you believe it? I’m even part of Namjoon’s going-away party. Everyone is recounting some sob story or memory that they shared with Namjoon at his family’s apartment. They’re making toasts stupidly. I don’t know anyone here, except for Sungkyung. I don’t see why I agreed to attend this senseless party when all I’m doing is drinking cheap vodka. I seriously think I do too much for this rash girl.

“Taehyung, can’t you be happy for once?” Sungkyung looks at me with much disappointment. Her lips are pouting and her eyes are drooping like a puppy’s. “You’re always such a party pooper!” she mutters under her breath.

I stick out my tongue, taunting, “Yeah, yeah, I’m a party pooper. Then, I guess I’ll go out for some smokes.”

“Yeah, Taehyung, don’t smoke,” Sungkyung starts to lecture. “It’s bad for you!”

I just wave at her and head outside. She’d only care about me when it came to smoking. She said that her grandpa had lung cancer, so she didn’t want anyone to suffer from that. I told her that there are those that have never smoked and have gotten cancer. It’s partly genetics too, so I’d like to take my chances with it and with her. I have a feeling that she’ll come out chasing after me to throw that cigarette to the ground and stomp it with her heel. At least, that’s what she usually does.

Once I’m out of this apartment and into the freezing night, I reach into my pocket for my lighter and cigarettes. When I’m about to light a piece, I happen to see that boy again, the boy from the restaurant. This time, he is sitting to wait for the bus. From his cherry red cheeks, I think he has been waiting for a while now. If I remember correctly, buses should come every fifteen minutes. I don’t quite understand what he is doing there. Waiting for a friend?

Inhaling a deeper breath of smoke, I see a bus pass by him. I’m expecting him to go on, yet he still remains in his seat. Another drives by him and he still doesn’t budge. By the time I’m done my cigarette, he has only stuck his fingers into his pockets. Then, I notice a guy with a black beanie heading towards the bus stop. It doesn’t take me long to realize that it’s the man that he was staring at that day. He was waiting for him? Are they friends?

Nope. I realize that they’re just strangers. Maybe, I should call him something, something like Fan Boy? He seems pretty infatuated with this guy. Surprisingly, Fan Boy has not greeted him nor has Fan Boy jumped from his seat. It was only until the guy smiled at him did he smile back. This guy opened his mouth to say something, but the bus already arrives and the two disappear after the bus leaves.

“Taehyung! There you are!”

I turn around to find Sungkyung shaking her head. I know she is probably disappointed in me for smoking. There’s that disdainful grimace oozing out from her lips. Her eyebrows are arching downwards as well. She’s frustrated and mad all together. Somehow, that makes me a bit happy. She cares . . . for me.

“What’s up?” I casually ask.

“What do you mean what’s up?” Sungkyung lets out a long sigh. “You actually went to smoke. Geez, Taehyung, how many times do I have to tell you that it’s bad for you? I don’t want you to die you know.”

I laugh at her innocent mind and walk by her. “I’m not going to die that easily,” I pat her head once and say. “And even if I die, the world will move on.”

“I’ll be very sad if you die,” I almost hear her whimpering, which makes my chest ache.

“Why?” I shift my gaze towards her to ask. “Why would you be sad?”

With her watery eyes, she murmurs, “Because you’re really important to me, Taehyung.”

“How important?”

“What do you mean?”

“Would you be more upset if Namjoon died?”

She furrows her eyebrows to show her puzzlement. She’s even biting her lower lip. She likes to do this whenever she doesn’t know what to say. Even now, she can’t even read me properly to figure out what I’d like to hear. Instead, she inquires, “What are you talking about, Taehyung?”

“I’m saying . . . never mind,” I mutter, knowing that she’ll never understand.

She snatches the back of my blazer, pulling me backwards. I’m forced to wait for her as she questions, “What do you mean never mind? You’re my best friend! Of course, I’d be really upset if you died.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo. I’ll be there when you need me.” I turn around and pat her on the head. Then, I brush past her, but she unexpectedly hugs me from behind.

“Taehyung, please . . . don’t make me worry,” she whispers with her hands shaking. “I c-c-can’t lose someone again. I c-c-can’t . . .”

I place my hands over her unsteady fingers, and reassure her, “I won’t leave, I promise.”

“Good.” I hear her voice waning away. “You’re even nicer to me than my own brother. I wish I had you as my brother.”

As soon as she finishes that sentence, Namjoon sees us from down the hall. I purposely give him a smirk and even turn around to embrace Sungkyung. “You’re always going to be my little sister, all right?” I tell her.

That’s the only way she’d let me hug her. Even though it pains me to do that, I know that this’ll mess with Namjoon’s mind. What can you say though? Mind games are my forte, and I’ll do anything I want to get what I need.

\----

After my part-time job as a waiter, I’m waiting at the bus stop that Yugyeom takes. We happen to use the same route home. Obviously, only I take note of that and the first time I met him on the bus, I remembered to check the time he got on for this stop. Later, I learned to get off at this stop and wait for him to board with me. Somehow, I like having the option of getting the chance to sit beside him. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t. I don’t want to seem like a creep.

Tonight, he’s a bit late. I’m just sitting here alone in the cold while bus drivers think how crazy I am for being this way. I stare ahead; actually, I have been staring ahead for a while now. Finally, someone comes out of the apartment across from me. It’s that guy, I think. It’s the guy who looks like a rock star. Maybe, I need a name for him. Rock Star?

This time, he is dressed in skinny black jeans with grey grunge rock boots. There’s a silver chain hanging from his pocket and another long cross necklace dangling from his neck. He reaches in the pocket of his olive military jacket for . . . a lighter and a box of cigarettes. I’m not surprised that he’s a smoker. He looks like the sort that would smoke. He’s looking down to light his cigarette; his dark fedora covers his face. Once he glances up, I find our eyes meet. He has a set of intimidating eyes that reminds me of a ravenous carnivore waiting to strike for its prey.

Now, a bus whizzes by me and once that’s over, I realize that he’s still there standing by himself smoking. He inhales and exhales to a steady beat. I can tell that he’s lonely. Why else would he be out here by himself?

He kind of . . . reminds me of myself. I can’t overcome this loneliness. All my friends have boyfriends and girlfriends and so now at lunch, it’s awkward. Everyone is paired together within our group while I’m the only one by the end of the table. They’re all having double dates or triple dates. I’m like a little light bulb.

I let out a sigh before seeing Yugyeom. He’s listening to music again, but still he recognizes me and gives me a polite grin. I smile back and pray that he doesn’t think this is weird. This is just a coincidence in his mind, I brainwash myself.

“Hey . . .” Yugyeom suddenly greets me. I almost lose balance of myself, yet he catches me in time. “Sorry about scaring you,” he mutters in a timid tone. “I was just wondering if you had any change on you. I lost my bus pass and I don’t carry change on me. I only have bills and a credit card.”

The bus is already approaching us and frantically, I search in my pockets to see if I can fulfill his request. I don’t want to look bad, and I don’t want him to think I’m cheap. Normally, I’d be extremely hesitant to lend anyone money. My dad had lent a ton of money to his best friend, who ran away and never paid us back. In the end, we had to move to a cheaper neighbourhood and sometimes had trouble paying for the bills. My dad took on extra shifts and my mother, who originally stayed at home, went back to work as a cashier at the grocery store. The lesson, then, that my mother would tell us was to never give anyone money. This time, I don't listen. As the bus stops in front of us and opens its doors, I hand him the change I have in my pocket.

“Here,” I tell him.

“Thank you . . . umm . . . is it Junghyung?” he asks me while ascending into the bus.

I feel my heart pound against my chest. I know I shouldn't have expected him to remember my name, but somehow, I wished that I meant something more to him. If he had, at least, remembered my name, then I had some hope, right?

“No,” I correct him and show the bus driver my pass, “it’s Jeon Jungkook.”

Upon taking a seat close to the exit, he apologizes, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get your name wrong. I just know a lot of people, and I’m bad with names in general. But, don’t worry! Next time, I’ll get your name right. I have to return your money anyways.”

“Yeah . . .”

Maybe that was why I let him use my money. That way, there’s a chance that he’ll talk to me again. My mother, though, would say that I was wrong and that I had been used. Trying to ignore her potential lecturing, I sit beside Yugyeom. The bus is driving slowly ahead now and from the window, I see that lonely guy, Rock Star. This time, there’s that same girl beside him. I see him walk past her, patting her head as he enters into the apartment building. Then, she hugs him from behind. The bus moves too quickly that I can’t understand what’s happening between the two.

Are they lovers? If they are, then why does he seem so empty? Why does it feel like he’s craving to be loved?

And why do I feel like I understand him completely?


	3. Understandings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've included this note in the beginning of this story, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to put this note in front of every chapter. 
> 
> This is a slow burn fan fiction. Some characters like Hoseok and Yoongi do not show up until later in the story, so please be patient with me. The tags are not misleading! The characters will appear in the later chapters. The same goes for the pairings. Also, I think it's fair to list the fandoms involved though they might not have as major as of a role compared to BTS. Minor characters are just as important as major ones in my opinion.
> 
> Thank you for your understanding and for your patience!

It’s the last school festival before graduation. Our class is in charge of having a host club. I’m responsible at the front, making sure that everyone is put at the right tables and has reserved the proper host. Sungkyung was in charge of costume design, so during the actual event, she is free to do whatever she wants. Namjoon, on the other hand, is a host, the most popular one on the list. Annoying bastard, as I write down every girl’s request. I was the most popular guy in school before Namjoon came along and stole all of my glory . . . and Sungkyung.

Because Namjoon is a host, though, Sungkyung is so bored that she’s beside me. She’s helping me make sure that everyone is lined up properly. Of course, the girls secretly hate her. Even as a guy, it’s obvious that the girls despise Sungkyung. Who can blame them? Sungkyung is stealing their favourite idol and I’m her best friend. She has the best of both worlds.

Now the annoying Namjoon swoops in front of Sungkyung to kiss her. They’re kissing almost too passionately for the crowd to handle. I know that if they go on for longer, they’d need a room. I’m pretty sure Namjoon has a hard dick. Who wouldn’t have one with Sungkyung’s chest pressing against his body?

I end up coughing pretty loudly to break up the two, and in a frustrated tone, I tell her, “Yeah, Sungkyung, I’m going for a breath of fresh air.”

“But what about—“

“I’m sure you can handle it,” I cut her off without thinking. “If you can’t, just ask Namjoon to help you out. He’s your boyfriend right?”

After finishing that question, I loosen that tie that she had forced me to wear to look professional. I also unbutton a couple of buttons that were strangling my throat. Now that I’m free, I turn around the corner and chuck that hideous purple tie into the bin. She only picked purple for every guy to wear since Namjoon looked the best in “mauve”, which was pretty much purple to me.

As I stroll down the stairs with my hands in my pockets, my friend, Park Jimin, sees me and urges, “T-T-Taehyung! You’ve got to make our maid café more popular! Please?”

He’s using his signature puppy eyes and even praying with his hands together. I can almost see dog ears popping out of his hair. That’s how well he’s acting this role. He knows me too well. After all, we’ve been classmates ever since kindergarten. He was the only one that stood up for me besides Sungkyung when I was a weak nerd. Even when Jimin was a popular child actor, he was still my friend. Now Jimin has stopped being in the spotlight just like how many child actors eventually disappeared from the industry. No one could see him past his role as the protagonist of a manhwa. Even though it was Jimin, who had announced his retirement after junior high, I knew that he still loved to act. He’d secretly watch the drama students rehearse from time to time. He’d even comment about how bad their staging or their script was. I tried to encourage him to act again, yet he’d shake his head and switch the topic to something else like how hot a new celebrity was. Plus, he had admitted once that his parents would never let him get out of university just to pursue a useless dream—one that was too far to reach.

“So, what are you studying in university then?” I asked him one day.

“Law?”

“But you don’t—“

“Well I’m good at memorizing, so hopefully that’ll be a plus.”

I feel bad for him every time I see him now. I know that his smiling face is just a façade. He wants to act, yet he knows it’s too unrealistic. He knows he can count on me for anything and I know that he’ll be there for me like a brother would.

“All right,” I grumble. Jimin gives me a brotherly hug with one arm and I receive this by sticking my hand out. “You owe me one, man,” I scoff.

“What? What do I owe you?” He chuckles in his high-pitched tone.

“I think lunch,” I utter. “Why not just let me have free food at your maid café?”

“All right, all right. At least pay for the drink and stay for an hour or so!”

“Deal.”

And it turns out to be a bit of a lie. They only have cake and I despise sweets. Sungkyung would always force them into my mouth; she likes to say that I’m too skinny for my own good. I just hate how disgustingly filled with sugar each dish happens to taste like. I’m now stuck here forking fruits off of the cake while slowly but surely, more female customers enter because I’m there.

In their eyes, I’m probably some prince born with good looks. They don’t understand that I worked for this to happen. I worked to become more in tune with my skin. I used to have a bit of acne here and there, but then Sungkyung taught me all she knew about skin care. I followed her suggestions religiously. I found haircuts that actually suited my face. I looked at GQ and other magazines to know what was popular.

A bit silly, I think, when they can use this time to work on themselves. I’m pretty much bored to death until I recognize that guy along with his gang. They take a table across from me. I can pretty much see them straight ahead; at least I can see that guy’s face. What’s that dude’s name anyways?

“Yeah, Yugyeom, you’re so lucky that you have Sana!” one of the guys with a faux-hawk teases while slapping Yugyeom’s back.

Yugyeom . . . why does that name sound so familiar? I’m biting into a strawberry that I’ve ripped from its shortcake. I’m thinking hard into my past. Nope, his name doesn’t ring a bell. I don’t think I know . . .

“Yeah, Sana baby is so hot!” another guy with rectangular glasses comments.

“You’re supposed to call her Sana, okay?” Jackson Wang hollers while slamming his fist on that poor guy’s head.

Jackson always ranks within the top three for midterm examinations, but he can’t beat me. In fact, I’m sure he hates me because I’m the one free loading on the only full scholarship offered for this private school. Plus, I’m sure he hates my guts because he was rejected into the university both of us were aiming. Naturally, I have his spot, and normally I would feel sorry for him but this time there’s no remorse. He was always annoying since elementary school, a total teacher’s pet.

“It’s okay, Jackson,” Yugyeom reassures.

“By the way, so is Sana actually going to quit school and do modeling full time?” Jackson nosily asks.

Yugyeom shrugs his shoulders, adding, “I guess so. She’s also thinking about becoming a designer.”

“Does . . . she even know how to sew?” the faux-hawk guy snickers.

“No.”

“Yeah, her dad is loaded anyways,” the rectangular glasses boy cheerfully states. “He’d let her do anything right, Yugyeom?”

Yugyeom nods while sporting a sheepishly sly grin. Jackson, as a result, nudges him, and the two burst out laughing. “You’ve hit it big this time.” Jackson throws a wink. “A pretty and rich girl. You pretty much don’t have to do anything in the future, and you’re all set. Just work at her dad’s company and suck up to her father.”

Yugyeom just laughs along. “Haha.”

I roll my eyes and let out a scoff upon eavesdropping. Shallow. Reminds me of this sugary cake. Why add sugar to perfectly normal dough? Fucked up. That’s what it is.

And just as I’m sipping the last bit of iced coffee I have, I overhear Jackson complain, “Yo, so why are we even here?”

“Didn’t Mark want to see that crush he has?” Yugyeom confirms.

“Which one? There’s no one hot here,” the guy with glasses mopes.

“Yeah,” Jackson mumbles and points his finger to the left, “especially that boy cross dressing with his thick thighs. Well, I guess he has double eyelids. That makes up for his bad skin. Hey, Yugyeom, wasn’t that the boy that got recommended to SNU instead of you?”

Immediately, I turn to see who Jackson was saying. It was him . . . the one that liked Yugyeom. He also goes to my school? I wonder why I never see him around. Honestly, what in the world did he see in that jerk? I really don’t get people sometimes. Look at Sungkyung. She decides to stay with Namjoon who most likely cheats on her. I really don’t understand this that I want to push over this table. I’m sick of this. Really.

“Let’s call him over!” the glasses guy suggests. “Hey! Waitress?”

I see the poor boy nervously walk towards this table. It is worse that he is doing this while being dressed in a maid costume. I’m pretty sure he was forced into this cross-dressing mess. I can tell that he is purposely avoiding Yugyeom’s glance. I can already imagine what they’re going to do to her. Why are these guys acting like such girls? Luckily, my table is closer to where she was, so I wave and yell, “Hey you! Can you add some more coffee to my cup?”

He and I look at each other intently. I don’t know why he is almost gawking at me in shock. Does he know me from somewhere? I doubt he would know that we keep seeing each other or that I know quite a bit about him. He is probably too absorbed in her own love life to take note of anyone else.

Finally, he opens his mouth to stutter, “Y-y-yes. Certainly. I’ll arrive with another drink for you.” Then, he takes a slight bow and returns to the kitchen area.

Jackson throws a glare at me because I have spoiled his fun. Regardless, Jackson decides to say, “Okay, let’s rate this guy-girl. On a scale of zero to ten, how hot is this creature?”

“One!” one of them screams.

“No, probably point five! Have you seen those eyebrows? They’re like a gorilla’s! Hahaha!”

“What about you, Yugyeom?” Jackson nudges.

“Umm . . .”

“Oh come on. Just give a number,” Jackson prompts.

Yugyeom with his arms folded mutters, “F-fine. I guess a two.”

“What? That’s so high!”

“Guys, let’s not . . .”

“Oh Yugyeom, stop acting like you’re so good! We all know what you’re thinking!”

Unfortunately, the boy returns with my drink very quickly and he manages to hear what Yugyeom has said. I can see that petrified and embarrassed look on his face. He can’t even look at me straight; his eyes are cast to the floor. His ears are almost as red as that strawberry I just ate. He rushes back to the place set as the kitchen and I hear him sputter, “I-I-I’m going to the washroom. I’ll be back.”

When he runs out the entrance, I see his eyes watering. A sense of guilt permeates through my chest. Immediately, though, I’m overcome with anger. I feel my blood fuelling to my brain while my fists are tightening. The gang’s laughter is growing louder and louder, especially after the boy left. I finish up my coffee before standing up. I walk over to the group to take a seat in the empty chair beside Yugyeom.

“Haha!” I mock. “How about let’s rank all of you? I think I’d have to adjust the rules and play with negative numbers though Jackson.” I purposely tilt my head and snicker.

“Who do you think you are?” Jackson throws his palms onto the table, yelling. “You think you’re so cool huh?”

I lean against the chair and place my legs on the table. “I’m cooler than you,” I declare. “That’s for sure.”

“You!”

“Come on, Jackson.” I point to my cheek and cackle. “I know how much you’ve wanted to beat me up. After all, I’m sure your parents compare you with me. You never measure up to my marks anyway.”

“You are—“

“I dare you, Jackson,” I continue to tease. “I dare you to punch me. Punch me and lose that scholarship of yours to that university. What was that university again?”

Before any of the guys can grab him, Jackson leaps over the table and grabs onto my collar. He thrusts his fist into my cheek and then throws another one on one of my eyes. I know better not to fight back, yet he shouts, “You’re a scum bag, you devil. A scum bag just like that your whole low class family!”

That’s when I retaliate but as soon as I hear footsteps coming, I let Jackson take the upper hand. In the end, the two of us are called to the principal’s office. Luckily, Jimin was there to witness everything, and he backed me up. Plus, I’m their best student, so they can’t really touch me. They can touch someone lower than me, and that’s Jackson. Jackson becomes suspended and his scholarship is also revoked because of this.

“Dude,” Jimin releases a sigh as we both leave the principal’s office, “why’d you do that? Were you still pissed that he bullied you in elementary school?”

“No,” I admit to Jimin, “he was just bullying a weak guy.”

Jimin shakes his head, lecturing, “Do you know how much shit you could have gotten into? You could have had your scholarship annulled! Honestly, I don’t get what you’re thinking sometimes. You do these crazy things that no reasonable person would ever—“

I give Jimin a pat on his shoulder to let him catch his breath. I don’t want him to burst a vein from his temple because of me. “Don’t worry man. I have everything covered.”

“You sure?” Jimin gives me that doubtful frown, where he makes a slight double chin and puckers his lips together like a little sissy girl. “You have enough from your family for food, books and all that sh.it?”

“Seriously, Jimin, chill. I don’t need help from your family. You’ve done enough as is.”

As soon as I finish that sentence, I hear sprinting coming from Sungkyung. Then, she greets me with a heavy slap. “Tae Tae! What were you thinking?” she bellows in a screechy voice.

I ignore her and utter, “Nothing. I just need some time alone.”

“What are you talking about? You could have gotten into so much—“

I stop at my tracks, and I see her panicked face. I don’t want her to worry, but I don’t want to hear her nagging either. I’m tired . . . really. I’m so tired of seeing her like this towards me. So, I give her a glare and just leave. Heck, I’m bailing on this festival. Technically, school is cancelled too, so it’s not necessary for me to stay. I can tell them to suck my balls if I wanted.

Ha.

It’ll only be a few weeks before graduation now, and I’ll be completely free. I’m stretching my arms out towards the sky. As much as I hate sweets, I feel like getting some pudding. I think Hansung would like that too.

* * *

 

Our maid café has been rather dead because there’s simply no super popular girl or guy from our class. Sure, people drop by but compared to other classes’, we’re a dead café. When he shows up behind Jimin, though, the whole place seems to be charged with energy. All of the workers turn to his direction. Even with just a white button up shirt that’s not even tucked in properly, a pair of black trousers and leather shoes, he manages to captivate all of us. Somehow, seeing him makes me feel like there’s hope to this business.

Jimin puts him at the table in the centre of the room before grabbing a bunch of cakes from our prep area. I witness Rock Star’s bewildered look when he sees all the sweets. Then, he frowns and folds his arms. I hear him complaining, “Seriously? You guys have nothing else?”

Jimin coughs up, “Well, there are drinks. I’ll get someone to fix you something. Iced coffee sound good?”

“Sure,” he answers with a scoff, “just don’t add any sugar and I mean it!”

I can’t help but let a smile creep out. He’s a funny guy. Who knew that a guy would dislike sweets so much? He really is interesting. Sometimes, I take a few glances at him and find him playing with his straw. He’s swishing the liquid in his cup over and over. I can tell that he’s thinking about something. The way his eyebrows are scrunched up together, the way he sucks in his chin, and the way his fingers pinch the edge of the straw all tell me that he’s bothered by his own thoughts. I wonder if he’s thinking about her.

“Jungkook.”

I feel an elbow to my arm, and there’s Kim Seokjin cheekily smiling at me. He is giving me that look as if he knows everything about me. Seokjin and I are quite close. We have known each other since elementary school. Still, he always likes to make false conclusions about me and I’m too bothered to correct him. I know what’s he is going to say. That grin of his is too wily.

“It’s not what you think,” I decide to inform him.

“R-r-right.” He even winks at me as he proceeds to his table to refill his drink. “You’ve been eyeing him for a bit now.”

“Who? What are you even talking about?” I pretend to act dumb.

Just as he passes by me, he whispers in my ear, “Kim Taehyung. Silly.”

I don’t know why, but that name is lingering in my ear. Taehyung. He sounds really familiar, but I can’t pinpoint where I’ve heard of his name. He sounds tantalizing too, and in person, he is far too unapproachable. I don’t consider him a god, but I know that he and I are in two different worlds. He belongs in Yugyeom’s realm. Just as I start having thoughts of Yugyeom again, Yugyeom unexpectedly shows up with his group of friends. My hands are clammy and hot. My cheeks are burning red. Oh god, I don’t want Yugyeom to see me like this. I’m not prepared to face him and . . . his people. I want to wish myself away and pray that he doesn’t recognize me. Quickly, I absorb myself with the other customers. Because of Taehyung, more and more girls have hogged tables nearby him. They all want a piece of him.

Now, I’m at the opposite end of their table. Still, I see one of the guys point at me and I hear, “SNU”. It’s obvious that he’s talking about me. Are they saying how I got recommended instead of him? It wasn’t my fault and I really appreciated what Yugyeom did. I didn’t mean to steal anything from him. Please . . . don’t . . .

“Let’s call him over!” I hear one of them scream at me. “Hey! Waitress?”

Sadly, I make eye contact with him, so I have to go to their table. My knees are wobbling, and my heart is pounding too loudly. My stomach is churning like a laundry machine doing its cycle. I feel like puking. Really.

As I pass by Taehyung, I hear him call out and see him wave at me, “You! Can you add some more coffee to my cup?”

I’m stunned to find him staring at me. The two of us are caught in a perplexed gaze. Seeing him so close feels so different. He has these dark alluring eyes shaped like a kitten’s, but I sense no danger from him. Instead, I feel safe and less anxious because of his presence. I do hope, though, that he didn’t recognize me from elsewhere. He can’t know . . . that I know about him and his feelings for her.

So, I, at last, answer him in a stammer, “Y-y-yes. Certainly. I’ll arrive with another drink for you.”

I bow at him to secretly thank him for saving me from this situation. Then I head to the prep area and ask another classmate to fix a drink. I also take this time to help clean up some of the dishes. Maybe I’m stalling time here, but it’s better than going back there. I’m stupid to think that it’ll work out. Within minutes, I have his drink filled and I’m forced to deliver it to him.

Suddenly, I overhear one of the guys exclaiming, “Oh come on. Just give a number.”

Yugyeom with his arms folded whispers, “F-fine. I guess a two.”

“What? That’s so high!”

“Guys, let’s not . . .”

“Oh Yugyeom, stop acting like you’re so good! We all know what you’re thinking!”

I know too well what they were doing, and who they were ranking. Why? One of them is staring at me and laughing at me. I feel so stupid, thinking that there was a chance to reach out to Yugyeom. I just lent him money, and I expect him to be nice to me. I expect him to start to be my friend, and maybe, just maybe, he’ll fall in love with me for who I am. But, I’ve got it all wrong. There’s no hope at all. He sees me as a two out of a scale of ten, and that’s being generous according to his group. I don’t even pass on their terms. Really, what was I even thinking? Yugyeom also likes girls, not guys. I’ve been so delusional. We really . . . are part of different worlds. I’m . . . I’m so stupid. Oh god, I want to cry. I want to sob right here and there. I know I should be mad at them, but secretly, I know they’re saying the truth. I just didn’t want to hear from him about it.

I know I’m not handsome, but I’m not ugly either. I’m just your average school guy. I might not stand out from my appearance, but academically, I do. I rank higher than Yugyeom and a whole load of other students. Whenever marks are out, that’s when I know where I stand in the future. I will be better than them. In the real world, skills will count for more. Reality, though, shoves a knife into my skin awakening me to my senses. People are shallow, and in the end, I’m just being optimistic.

Their laughs are getting louder and louder in my head. I want to melt away and hope to never exist. I have to get away soon before I start to cry. I know, sooner or later, I’ll break down. In a hurry, I excuse myself and dash out of the room. Even when I’m sprinting down the hall to the nearest washroom, I already feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. I’m thinking to myself that if I keep running, maybe, all of this will be a dream, and everything will go away. If I run away from my fears, then they’ll never get to me.

If I just keep going . . .

I finally collapse onto the grass and get rid of that stupid maid costume I've been wearing all this time. I'm lucky that I still wore shorts and a t-shirt underneath the dress. I’m close to the empty track field where people train for baseball, soccer, and other sports. I keep breathing harder, trying to gain my breath back. The tears too just keep flowing faster. There’s a bit of shade covering me as I’m under a tall tree. I’m glad . . . I’m glad that I’m alone. I let out a loud cry and sob till my eyes are almost too sore to open. I'm so pathetic. Crying over this little thing . . .

I hear the school bell chiming. It’s the end of the day, meaning that it’s time to head back. On my way, I discover Jin dashing towards me. “Oh my god! Where were you?” he shrieks.

“What?”

Jin lets out a big sigh, “After you left, Taehyung and another guy had a fight! They even got called to the principal’s office!”

“Wh-what? Why?”

“I-I-I don’t know,” Jin mutters. “Taehyung kind of just stood up and started to taunt one of them. He said a lot of mean things, but I think . . . he was standing up for you. I mean, he didn’t need to refill his drink.”

“But why?” I blink a few times, wondering. “Why would he—“

Jin interrupts me to advise, “I think you should go thank him. He’s probably finished talking to the principal by now. I mean, he could have lost his scholarship to SNU!”

“W-w-wait what? He’s going to the same university as me?” I almost trip over my own feet when I hear Jin say that.

“Well, he’s majoring in Finance,” he clarifies. “Wait . . . don’t tell me that you didn’t know who Kim Taehyung was?” When he sees me nod my head cautiously, he grabs my arms and shouts, “Oh my god! He’s the guy who is always ranked the top of the grade! You know, the guy who got to make the speech in the beginning of high school? Oh wait . . . you were sick that day so you missed that.”

“Wow, I didn’t know . . . he was that smart,” I mutter quietly. “He doesn’t look the type that’s . . . bright.”

He continues to add, “He’s not just smart. He’s good looking too, but I heard from a few people who used to go to the same elementary school as him that he was bullied. He was a huge nerd, and after he transferred in the middle of junior high, he met Sungkyung. She’s the one that changed him and made him into the Taehyung today! I do hear, though, people saying that he’s the devil! You know, Taehyung the Devil?”

“Oh,” I mumble, “so that’s why he can have earrings and look like a rock star.”

He starts to chuckle at my remark. “That’s all you got from what I said?”

“Well . . . I guess that’s why he lo . . . he is close with her.”

I almost let his secret out and luckily, Jin doesn’t hear me. He just proceeds to state, “Well, it’s obvious that he loves Sungkyung, like pretty much worships her. I kind of think she’s selfish though. Actually, his fan club hates her and I don’t blame them. She doesn’t deserve him.”

I don’t know how to comment on that. It’s hard to figure out who deserves whom. I can understand why Taehyung would be so close to her. If someone changed me, then I would forever be grateful for him or her. Sometimes, it just takes one person to believe in you. For Taehyung, it was her. I’m sure that’s how he started to fall for her, but that was just the beginning. His love, surely, is deeper than that. He . . . for some reason, makes me feel that there’s more to him. He’s not shallow like them. Maybe he’s in a completely different world than them.

And I realize that he is when I spot him at the gates. I had to go close to the entrance for a shortcut to the principal’s office. Luckily, Taehyung doesn’t see me follow him. I really only want to thank him, I tell myself. I know, however, that I want more. I want to know more about him. I’m curious as to what he’ll do and why he cared about what happened to me. Out of pity, perhaps? Somehow, I feel that he’ll understand me and that I’ll understand him fully too. I can’t deny that feeling I have about him.

So I enter the convenience store a few minutes after him. I’m standing at the snack aisle but I know that he is at the drinks and fresh food section. He’s looking at sandwiches and then bends down to reach for a . . . pudding?

Pudding? Didn’t he hate sweets? Why would he even pick that? I’m a bit confused as to his choice. Then, I see him put it back as he sighs in a disheartened way. I know that sort of sigh. I’ve done that too often. It’s when what I want to buy is too expensive and I have to put it away. I have to tell myself that I’ll live perfectly fine without this purchase. It’s a luxury.

Pudding . . . is a luxury to him and it was for me too.

I want to tell him so badly that I know. I know how he feels. I even want to lend him what I have, so I can thank him properly. Instead, I watch him leave. I end up taking the pudding he held and buying it. I run outside, hoping that I’ll find him still there. Sadly, he has disappeared and all I’m left with is this sweet delicacy.

I know I can’t store it in the fridge at home because my mother would yell at me for wasting money. I choose to sit outside the store instead and open the lid. With a small plastic spoon, I scoop enough pudding for it to jiggle. Then I stick a spoonful into my mouth.

It’s sweet, too sweet for me to handle.

And a tear drops down my cheek.

He might not know who I am now, but in the future, I want to be better so I can thank him properly. He makes me see that there’s a future out there for me. There’ll be someone willing to see past my appearance and willing to appreciate me for who I am.

Taehyung . . . why on Earth would anyone call you the devil? How could you ever be one?

And if you really were a devil, then I’d rather side with you than with an angel.


	4. Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've included this note in the beginning of this story, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to put this note in front of every chapter. 
> 
> This is a slow burn fan fiction. Some characters like Hoseok and Yoongi do not show up until later in the story, so please be patient with me. The tags are not misleading! The characters will appear in the later chapters. The same goes for the pairings. Also, I think it's fair to list the fandoms involved though they might not have as major as of a role compared to BTS. Minor characters are just as important as major ones in my opinion.
> 
> Thank you for your understanding and for your patience!

I can sense freedom passing through my fingertips. I grip the podium, and it feels like day one all over again. I started with a short speech before, tried to sound eloquent and inspiring because I needed that scholarship to keep going. The teachers initially all loved me, but no sooner did they grow to hate me. I’m sure the principal is nervous about what I’m about to say. She’s wiping her sweat that’s dripping down my forehead with her silk handkerchief. Talk about using silk the wrong way.

I scoff and off I announce, “Most kids here don’t know what they want. They have too much that they don’t need to think. I’m sure you all know what I’m talking about.” I take a pause and lick my lips. “What I’ve always wanted to say is that you should cherish what you have already and continue to work hard to keep what you have. You never know when you’ll lose everything.”

Yes, you never really know when you’ll lose everything. I know it from experience. Living a life with maids and chauffeurs, I was forced to deal with cooking for Hansung, taking on extra jobs and looking after my mother. After my father was imprisoned for stealing money from the company, my mom had grown weak mentally and physically. She frequently had headaches and stomach pains. She’d be gazing out the window most of the time and sighing. She was probably dreaming what had been and I don’t blame her for thinking that way. It’s just too much for her to lose all at once, particularly when she came from an affluent family. She married my father out of love and out of disobedience from her family. If she had listened to her parents, she would still be living the high life. Actually, she had always been striving to return to that old lifestyle of hers. I actually think that’s why my father manipulated his employers’ money. He wanted to give us all that he could offer and this was the simplest way to satisfy all. We were happy then; we truly were.

I take a deep breath now and continue to explain, “I’m sure you all know who my father was. You probably know him as a swindler for stealing from his company. And I agree that what he did was wrong yet what he intended to do was right. He wanted our family to be better and so he took a shortcut. From him, I’ve learned that we can’t cut corners. We have to work to achieve our potential. I honestly don’t see that happening for the majority here, but I hope my words have had some impact on you. That is all. Good-bye and may we never see each other again.”

I throw away my cloak and hop off the stage. The principal is yelling at me and probably cursing me in her mind. Honestly I don’t care. They can mail my awards to my house. I’m finally free. I’m done with this stupid school filled with shallowness. I’m off to do better things in life. I hope university will be more interesting. I’ll take the courses I like and study what I want.

I’m walking down the hall of the theatre and pushing past its golden doors. The sun shines right in my face, almost blinding my eyes. It feels good to have light attacking my sight. I think to myself that this is good. I think I’d like a drink. Maybe a beer to clear my throat. Nah, I think I’ll stay sober for now and go with some coffee.

Bring an extra kick to the morning. The question is where? This question ultimately leads me to venture around Seoul, hop around stations and walk till I’m too exhausted. Ironically, I go past the sub shop, where I first met that guy. I guess I should stop calling him that. Fan Boy . . .

Out of curiosity, I enter the small restaurant. My stomach growls just in time, so I guess I should stay here. I’m greeted by a tall, almost too thin waitress. She looks like she hopped off of the runway; I’m sure she’s aspiring to be there. Why else would she be here?

“What would you like to order, sir?” she asks me in a polite, quiet tone.

“I think . . . why don’t you pick for me?” I suddenly suggest. “Just make it within 2000 yen.”

I feel like treating myself today. I deserve a reward right? I mean, usually this is around three or four times greater than what I’d spend for a meal. Still, it’s a special day today. I finally graduated. The boy, though, doesn’t take my surprise very well. He looks almost petrified, and I’m completely confused. Are choices too hard to make? My frown forces him to rush to the kitchen without a word. I wait for his return because I’m feeling nice. Usually, I would have stood up and left because of his indecisiveness. Today, I’m feeling a bit generous, so generous that I wait for at least ten minutes.

Then he dashes back to my table, wondering, “How about a café bombón and a po’boy?”

“Umm . . . sure whatever those are,” I mumble under my breath.

I am really too hungry to even think about what I'll eat. Anything served to me at this point would have been delicious. Several minutes later, I see the plate of food along with my drink. Without thinking much, I take a huge bite into my sub. I don’t expect crunches and the taste of fried seafood filling my throat. There’s a bit of gravy mixed into this messy delight, and the more I eat, the thirstier I become. I take a gulp of the drink served and a burst of coffee flames down my throat. This mix of food is odd, but I don’t dislike it. It’s a bit of a surprise. I really didn’t expect to be thoroughly awakened.

As I am about to finish my meal, the waitress hands me pudding bought from the convenience store. “This is a treat from someone,” the lady explains before I can even question her.

“Someone?” I raise an eyebrow, wondering. “May I know who that person is?” The woman looks back towards the kitchen with an uneasy gaze. Immediately, I reveal a smirk and pretend to excuse myself to the washroom. Just as I’m making my turn towards my supposed location, I take a detour to the kitchen.

Bursting open the door, I announce, “I’d like to know who wanted to give me a treat.”

The old chef with a trimmed moustache answers, “It is simply a treat from us.”

I skim the area and see an older woman. There’s no other person that could have wanted to give me this, except I know that this person is hiding. I’m pretty sure that it’s a boy too. So I holler loudly, “I know that you are hiding whoever you are. Don’t do this sort of cowardly act. If you want to give me something, then give it to me in person! I’m not going to accept gifts from a stranger who I’ve never seen. Sorry.”

Then I head out and pay for the bill. The waitress, who was in charge of my table, has a disheartened stare. I’m not sure who she pities, but eventually, she opens her mouth to say, “Can you . . . come back a year later?”

“What do you mean by that?” I directly frown at her.

“The person, who gave you the present, isn’t ready to face you yet,” she carries on explaining.

I cock my head to the side, grumbling, “What’s the difference between giving it to me now and later?”

The waitress leans in towards me and whispers, “I’m . . . not supposed to say this, but he is pretty self-conscious, so he wants to—“

“I get it,” I interrupt her before she finishes.

It has been a while since I’ve ever felt shy and weak in front of others. I had forgotten what it was like to be the outcast and to constantly worry about what others thought of me. Essentially, I didn’t know how to be myself. I wasn’t even sure who I was at that point. I only knew that every day, I’d be called names like the liar’s son, the cheapskate, and the corrupted. People would laugh at me for no reason. Whenever I saw people whispering or chattering, I’d wonder if they were talking about me. From time to time, I’d wonder what it was like to die. Would I be happier on the other side? Then . . . someone reached out to me: Sungkyung.

It was from her that I learned what I was good at, what I needed to improve on, and who I was. Without her, there wouldn’t be me today. I’ve never thanked her because it seems so awkward to be thanking someone so close to you. I keep saying to myself that one day, I’ll let her know how I feel. I’m just waiting for the right moment, but somehow, I feel like that girl who gave me the pudding. I’m not ready yet. I don’t feel good enough to match with Sungkyung yet, and so a few years go by. We’re graduating soon. Luckily, she’ll be attending an affiliated university of where I’m going, so she’ll be on campus with me. She’ll be in a different faculty, but at least there’s a chance of us seeing each other often.

“Sir, your change . . .” the waitress reminds me to snap out of my thoughts.

“Right.” I retrieve it from the plastic tray, but before I do, I walk over to my table, which hasn’t been cleaned yet. I grasp the pudding in my hand along with its small plastic spoon. “Tell him . . . that I’ll take this for now, and that next time we meet a year later, don’t get me pudding. I actually don’t like sweets. Chicken or japchae would be nice.”

“Okay!” The waitress gives me a brightened smile. “I’ll definitely tell him that! Is there anything else?”

Walking towards the counter, I note, “Mm . . . let me think. I guess . . . he has to be confident to be himself.”

“Will do! I’ll make sure that happens!”

She does a sailor wave at me and I mimic her. Then, I say goodbye to her and leave the restaurant. There’s the unopened pudding in my hand. I toss it up and down, catching it every time. I’m thinking that Hansung will be happy to see me bring this home, yet I’m not exactly sure if I want to give this to him. So, this is what I settle on doing: I’ll just have a spoonful and he can have everything else. After arriving home, I suggest this plan to him. He has gotten home from elementary school and is eager to gobble up any snacks if possible. Hansung pouts his lips trying to guilt trip me to hand him all the pudding.

“No, I’m getting the first bite,” I tell him once I plop myself down my usual seat in the kitchen.

“But, hyung, you don’t even like to eat sweets!”

Hansung is charging at me with his arms stretched out to steal the prize. Since I know my brother’s every move, I manage to stop him with my palm which sticks to his forehead. “Don’t get greedy now,” I warn him. “You can’t be selfish.”

“F-f-fine,” he lets out a tiny sigh.

Once he agrees, I rip open the lid of the pudding. Then, I stick the small spoon into the center. I scoop just enough and quickly slip it into my mouth. The pudding is a bit warm because I’ve been holding onto it, but on my tongue, it’s still relatively cold. It is particularly slimy, and after it melts in my mouth within seconds, I taste that wad of sugar. God, it’s sweet that I feel like gagging.

“Ugh,” I groan and stick out my tongue.

“See?” Hansung mumbles. “Don’t eat it if you don’t like it!”

“Hey!” I flick his forehead. “Is that how you address your own brother?”

Hansung with a wimpy voice murmurs, “N-n-n-no.”

Realizing that I have been too stern, I mess his hair up and tell him, “Make sure you finish everything and clean up before Mom comes home. We don’t want her saying that you’ll get cavities.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he agrees. As I stand up and head to my room, Hansung suddenly asks, “Do you have to leave . . . for school?”

I walk back to the little kid and bend down to his height. Patting his head, I utter, “Yes, I do. That way, I can become smarter and earn more money in the future, so we can get our old house back. I’ll be moving out to a smaller place by myself, but it’ll be fine. I’ve saved enough money, and I’m on scholarship. Just promise me that you’ll take care of Mom okay?”

I know this little boy is trying his best to fight tears because his eyes are almost popping out and refusing to blink. I know it’s tough to do this, but it’s for the better. It would take too long to commute every day to school and the selfish part of me wants my own life. I can’t always be protecting Hansung. He has to grow up by himself too.

“Oh . . .” I hear him squirm.

Showing my pinky finger, I promise him, “I’ll try to visit as much as I can, and even if I’m not here, know that you’re always my little brother. Now, I’m entrusting you with protecting the family, okay? You can do that?”

He bobs his head up and down and up and down. Then, he hooks his pinky with mine and shouts, “Yes! Of course I can! I am Kim Hansung. I can do anything!”

I end up laughing at his silliness. Kids . . . they’re funny creatures.

* * *

 

None of my family is here on my graduation day. Everyone is too busy working to take time off, and I understand that completely. I kind of think it’s pointless how we’re all sitting here waiting to walk across that stage. No one will remember us anyway. I’m unlucky too that my last name is further down the list. I won’t be able to leave earlier, and just as I have that thought of skipping, it is time for Taehyung to make his speech.

He seems overly confident like he knows something that we don’t. I’m pretty sure he is going to do something crazy. He doesn’t need to obey anyone from this school anymore. No one can touch him at all today. Indeed, there he goes, proclaiming:

“Most kids here don’t know what they want. They have too much that they don’t need to think. I’m sure you all know what I’m talking about. What I’ve always wanted to say is that you should cherish what you have already and continue to work hard to keep what you have. You never know when you’ll lose everything.”

People sitting around me are all gasping or opening their jaws. There’s so much rustling and whispering going on. Did you hear what he said? Can you believe it? Oh my god, did he really mean that? He’s so full of himself! He’s such a jerk!

They’re all talking about him or at least thinking about him in that way. I don’t, though. I kind of admire how blunt he is. I kind of wish I could be like him. I wish I could tell my classmates exactly what I thought about them because I agree completely with what he has said. It’s true. Our school is meant for the elite and the kids here were born with silver spoons jammed in their mouths. Their futures are either set or don’t need to be. They don’t know what it’s like to be wondering how much cash to use today. They don’t know what it’s like to ever lose.

Then Taehyung continues to add:

“I’m sure you all know who my father was. You probably know him as a swindler for stealing from his company. And I agree that what he did was wrong yet what he intended to do was right. He wanted our family to be better, and so he took a shortcut. From him, I’ve learned that we can’t cut corners. We have to work to achieve our potential. I honestly don’t see that happening for the majority here, but I hope my words have had some impact on you. That is all. Good-bye and may we never see each other again.”

Swindler? I never knew . . . wait . . . Taehyung was the son of Kim Sehun scandal. This was all over the news around five or six years ago. Kim Sehun was one of the seniors of an investment banking company. He basically managed to use inside information to trade illegally and also stole from the company’s funds. Everyone criticized him and berated their family. I still remember what my mom had to say about them: “See? It’s with people like them that the world is worse off. People with high salaries doing illegal stuff. I’m sure there are others, but that man was just unlucky that he got caught.”

I can kind of understand why people call Taehyung the Devil. He bears the family shame with his last name. Maybe, that’s why he rebels so much. He wants people to know that he’s different, that you can’t judge someone based on his or her parents. Taehyung isn’t born a devil. If he were truly evil, then why is he telling us such valuable advice? Why isn’t he lying and pretending?

Now Taehyung jumps off the podium, landing loudly onto the wooden floor. He makes a grand exit and pushes his way through the doors. The principal is frantically trying to explain what happened, but no one really pays attention to her. At least, I’m not. In fact, I sort of want to get up from my seat and follow Taehyung. I want to tell him that I really liked his speech. I also want to say that I hope . . . he and I can meet one day. I still haven’t thanked him for that time, and I still haven’t started to change myself. I’m not really sure where to start. My hair? I guess I’ll get a better haircut. I guess I’ll start flipping through fashion magazines to know what to wear. I can’t always be in sloppy clothes. I should start hitting the gym and stop being so untoned and flabby. What about some accessories? Maybe some piercings..

I’m probably getting too carried away because I don’t even notice that the people ahead of me have already made their way to the stage until someone taps me from behind. As I trail behind and finally receive my graduation certificate, I walk down to my seat again. Just before I sit down, I decide to stand up again. I walk the same way that Taehyung has. I see the cloak that he has left behind. Uncannily, I pick it up and walk out while unzipping my cloak. It’s done and over with; I’m free.

And . . . I wonder what I should do? What should I do with this cloak too? It’s so long that I have to almost fold it in half to hold it properly. I’m not even sure why I decided to keep it. There’s a tradition over here where girls ask guys for the buttons on their uniform. Usually, guys give one to their beloved. Obviously, Taehyung would have had a lot of requests and he’d probably only give out one to Ishikawa-san. In the end, he surprises all of us by just leaving. He doesn’t let us bid him farewell. He doesn’t go out to please his fans or even Ishikawa-san.

I can kind of see why they only have been friends for so long. Taehyung isn’t someone you can keep by your side. He is too wild to handle, and in that sense, he’s like a devil. We never really know what to expect from one anyways. Taehyung probably doesn’t even know this himself. He probably has no idea that it is much more pleasant watching him soar freely than binding him in a cage. He would be unhappy being grounded in any sense, and if he were so rigid, I don’t think that would suit his personality. He’s an inspiring person; how can you be inspired by someone who doesn’t risk anything and who doesn’t dream?

I know already that Taehyung is bound to do great things in life. I’m sure Ishikawa-san feels that way too. After all, she has known him for much longer. She most likely knows that if they were together, he would never fully reach his potential. His attention would only be on her. Maybe, I’m guessing or reading too much into her. Maybe, she’s plainly ignorant and dense, but if she saw potential in Taehyung when he was nothing but a victim of bullying, then surely she thinks the same way as me.

My feet carry my body towards where I always go: the café. I guess I can work today then. I’m sure Jihyo will be surprised to see me there. At least, I’ll get paid. Then, I’ll use the money to buy a new piece of clothing. A start of a new day means a tiny change. For now, I’ll just go with a waitress’ attire and that’s what I intended to do, except I notice Rock Star, no, Taehyung, enter the store before me.

What is he doing here, I can’t resist thinking. To avoid him, I wait at least five minutes before entering from the back entrance. Endo-san, the chef and owner, and his assistant, Song Minho, give me an odd look. The back door happens to be connected to the kitchen, and before they can start questioning me, Jihyo bursts into the kitchen, stuttering, “O-o-oh my god. Oh my god. A hot guy just came in and asked me if I could pick his order. I don’t know what to recommend to him.” Suddenly, she grabs a hold of my hands, begging me, “Can you just deal with him, Jungkook? You’re good with all clients. I’m getting all nervous and—“

“It’s okay, Jihyo,” I reassure her. “Just take a deep breath and let’s think what would be good for him. What’s his budget by the way?”

“20,000 won.”

My mind goes through our list of dishes. I can picture the menu clearly. There are so many subs to choose from, but I know I can’t pick something too mundane. It’s Taehyung. He thrives on surprises. So, I select the po’boy, which is made of fried soft-shell crab and creole, and the café bombón. This should total 1800 yen. Good enough. Once I tell Jihyo and the chef what to do, I wait for the results. I know I should stay in the kitchen or go out to help, but instead, I rush out, excusing myself, “Wait! I need to give this customer something! I’ll be back!”

I sprint to the nearest convenience store and snatch the last pudding on the shelf. Paying with all the spare change I have, I dash back through the back door. It just so happens that Jihyo is returning with another customer’s dish.

“Chef, we need—“

“Wait, Jihyo,” I pant and try to say, “can you . . . can you give this to him?” She eyes me quizzically. I don’t blame her for looking at me weirdly. This is beyond bizarre, but I know I have to do this. This is the least I can do to thank Taehyung. I continue to explain, “I actually know him, but he doesn’t know who I am. He helped me out before, but I never got the chance to thank him. If you give this to him, I’m sure he’ll understand. Please?”

I’m holding out a cup of pudding like a fool. Jihyo is standing there too dumbfounded to move. Just when I think she’ll say no, she mutters, “O-okay. I’ll give it to him.”

“And, and,” I chirp while passing the treat to her, “don’t say it’s from me! Just say it’s from someone!”

“Okay, okay, but what if he won’t accept this?”

Right. I should have considered that. Knowing Taehyung, he would probably want to understand everything before accepting this gift. He doesn’t go easy on anything or anyone. So, how do I get him to say yes? I’m trying to recall everything I know about him in a matter of seconds. I don’t know how to formulate this, but I just think he’ll understand.

My voice chokes up as I stammer, “J-j-just . . .” I look directly at Rei. Suddenly, I’m not afraid to declare, “I want to be better, Jihyo. I want to change because of him and I want him to see my change a year later. Then, I’ll tell him myself.”

“All right.” Jihyo flashes her sweet smile to calm me. “I’ll help you out.”

The chef and his assistant are rambling and wondering who that special customer is. I kind of ignore them because I’m too nervous about what will happen. Luckily, there’s a little window from the kitchen door, so I can peek occasionally to the outside world. Now, I see his dumbfounded expression and soon, he grimaces. I already have this bad feeling churning in my stomach. Why do I think he’ll come here?

“I’ve got to hide,” I urge desperately. “Is there some spare counter that I can duck in?”

“Well . . . there is the cold room,” Minho answers.

Without a word, I run to the specified area. Immediately, I feel the blast of cold air pinching at my skin. I know I’ll probably catch a cold, but I can’t let Taehyung see me right now or know of my existence. He’d think I’m a creep. I already feel like one anyways: a freezing one that is. Fortunately and unfortunately, my intuition is right. Taehyung has charged into the kitchen. I can’t hear what he says exactly. However, I do manage to listen to his last statement: “I know that you are hiding whoever you are. Don’t do this sort of cowardly act. If you want to give me something, then give it to me in person! I’m not going to accept gifts from a stranger who I’ve never seen. Sorry.”

I feel my throat grow sore and as I gulp, I find it hard to breathe. He thinks I’m a coward. I guess I am. I can’t even say thank you to him in person. I can thank a stranger who holds the door for me, but I can’t do that for him. I feel like a complete failure. As I crouch down, I bury my head in between my arms. It’s cold here, yet my heart feels even chillier. That’s right. I’m just a stranger who he has never seen. I shouldn’t be caring about him at all. I’m being foolish like always, like admiring Yugyeom who thinks I’m atrocious. Maybe, maybe . . .

“Jungkook!” I shift my focus towards Jihyo who kneels down to where I am sitting. “What are you doing here? You’re going to freeze to death!”

“I-I—“

“Oh my god! You’re crying? What happened?” Jihyo shrieks.

“D-d-didn’t you hear what—“

Jihyo breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, you mean, him. He accepted it! He’s nicer than I thought, Jungkook! He even said that he’d come back a year later. Oh, he also said to treat him to chicken or japchae once you guys meet then.”

“Japchae?” I sniffle and blink a few times.

Jihyo giggles to reveal her rabbit teeth. “Yeah, you heard me right. Japchae. He doesn’t like sweets, so he’d prefer japchae. But he still took the pudding in the end. I’m not sure why though. Anyway it doesn’t really matter, does it? The important things are that he accepted your gift and that he is willing to meet you in the future.”

“R-r-right.”

Then, I can’t control my sneeze. Jihyo laughs at me, commenting, “Let’s get out of here before we freeze like these meat.”

When I leave the cold room, I’m embraced by a sense of warmness. It’s a shocking yet pleasant feeling. I take a deep breath to remind myself that this is it. I have to change now, and I have a year before we’ll actually meet. University will mean a new and improved Jungkook, one that hopefully Taehyung will accept.


	5. New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've included this note in the beginning of this story, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to put this note in front of every chapter. 
> 
> This is a slow burn fan fiction. Some characters like Hoseok and Yoongi do not show up until later in the story, so please be patient with me. The tags are not misleading! The characters will appear in the later chapters. The same goes for the pairings. Also, I think it's fair to list the fandoms involved though they might not have as major as of a role compared to BTS. Minor characters are just as important as major ones in my opinion.
> 
> Thank you for your understanding and for your patience!

We’re moving into our new places, and Sungkyung’s mother has asked me to help out her daughter. I sort of want to tell her mother to go find Namjoon, who is Sungkyung’s actual boyfriend, but now’s a good time to impress that mother. Win over the mother who will then persuade her daughter to pick that other guy, right?

My plan means tons of lifting into Sungkyung’s new room. All Sungkyung has to do is look after the remaining boxes at the front of the hall, so no one steals them. I, however, have to also stack those boxes and luggage onto this cart. Her mother is responsible for organizing Sungkyung’s clothes, books, and other belongings.

As I make my second round of deliveries down the corridor, I pass by Yugyeom. He and I assess each other with one look. There’s no mistake at all. It’s that fucking douche bag. I still don’t get why Fan Boy likes him and it is even worse that he is on the same floor and same wing as Sungkyung. I can imagine the two bonding; Yugyeom’s group sometimes hangs out with Namjoon’s friends. Sungkyung probably already knows Yugyeom. He was not exactly low-key at high school. I wonder why he is even here. Jimin said that Yugyeom was going to the same university as him. I guess Yugyeom got lucky with the waiting list. Damn that bastard.

I’m glad that I’m not living closer to campus. It’s way too expensive as well. I decided to live at a place that was around forty-five minutes away from campus. It’s not that bad compared to where I lived before, which was an hour or more away. I haven’t exactly moved into my building, but there isn’t much to bring. After helping Sungkyung, I’ll have to settle my own matters. School starts after today and I still haven’t gotten my books. I’ll get them after the first day of classes. It seems too much of a hurry to get them now. Plus, I doubt we’ll be doing much on the first day, just some introduction stuff.

“It’s too bad Namjoon goes to Pusan National University,” her mother mutters in dismay. She is putting plates and bowls into one of the cabinets while I am placing the last box into the room.

I try to act politely and nicely by saying, “Yes, but do not worry. I’ll be there when Sungkyung-san needs me.”

Her mother gives me a sympathetic look, almost to the point of pitying me. “I hope you are not too overburdened by my daughter,” she sighs. “Sungkyung really has no idea how lucky she is sometimes.”

“She has a gentle heart though,” I remind her, “and that’s what’s important.”

“Yes,” Sungkyung’s mother slurs in between her words. “Yes . . . she does, and I hope . . . you always know that.”

“I’m going to go get Sungkyung-san now and make the last round,” I declare and exit the room almost too quickly.

Before I know it, I see Sungkyung jogging towards me with a sheepish smile and a shy wave. “Hey!” she cheers aloud.

“Wait . . . why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be—“

“I got bored,” she grumbled and grabbed me by the arm. “Plus, I got a guy to look after it for me! I can help you now.”

I’m not sure how she’d be helpful. She’s really a major klutz. She can’t clean, cook, or organize. She’s only good at writing her poems and stories. She has been published a few times in local journals. I’m not sure how she’s able to be so talented, yet be so challenged too.

“I’m actually done,” I inform her, “so I guess let’s just get the remaining stuff from the guy you met?”

She claps her hands in joy. I can’t help but grin along with her. She’s always so optimistic; I’m sure that’s why so many guys like her too. “Sounds good! I’ll race you there!” She winks at me and already starts to run down the hall.

As stupid as I seem, I chase after her. She has this way of making me do foolish things. I feel childish with her, but I think that’s how she releases the stress on me. I feel free with her. She might nag at me like how a mother should, but she will never force me to do anything I don’t want to do. Perhaps I’m chasing blindly after something unattainable. I don’t mind though. I don’t mind all this running because I know it’ll be worth it. She’ll come to her senses one day. She’ll . . .

“Thank you so much, Yugyeom!” Sungkyung flashes her signature smile at him and even pats his arm. “I hope it wasn’t too much of a burden for you. I know you have your own stuff to carry.”

“Oh it’s nothing, Sungkyung.” Yugyeom has this gross, fake laugh. In fact, he reminds me of a plastic doll that all the girls want as their prince. “And this is?” Yugyeom throws me a weary glance. I know I don’t belong here in this high class world because this building is for the elite. I reek of poverty. I know that well enough, so he doesn’t need to implicitly tell me that. Honestly, he’s such a bastard.

“Yugyeom,” I informally call him and place my arm over his shoulder, “we know each other already! You’re funny! Sungkyung, you and I all went to the same school! And I really wanted to apologize about what happened at the school festival. I let my emotions get to myself. That happens a lot with me. I hope you don’t mind.”

Even with an uncomfortable, tense face, Yugyeom manages to say, “Ah, it’s okay.”

Purposely, I tighten my grasp around his neck to announce, “That’s good then! I can be straightforward with you. You know, I really don’t like posers. I hope we’ll both keep it real. ”

“Tae Tae!” Sungkyung screams at me, stomping one of her feet. “You’re going to suffocate him!”

I smile widely and loosen my grip. “Sorry about that, Yugyeom,” I apologize. “I get too passionate at times.”

Straightening his collar, Yugyeom murmurs, “It’s fine.”

Then, I carry the bags that Sungkyung has and continue laughing my head off. The expression on Yugyeom’s face was priceless. That was fun. That was better than fun. My laugh, though, breaks off once I see Sungkyung make that face, where her eyes squint and her lips puff up. She’s disappointed in me. She thinks I was being rude to her new friend. She doesn’t know the whole story; she’ll never see anyone’s bad side. She’ll only notice their good points. That’s probably why she chose to befriend me in the first place. Out of all the wickedness in me, she still found something good, and now, I’m losing whatever she discovered in me.

It hurts to see her treat me this way, but I can’t get myself to apologize to her. I don’t think I’m wrong and that marks the beginning of our long silence. Once I finish helping her out, I head back to my own place. I purposely pick a time to move when Hansung is away at one of his lessons. I don’t want him begging me to stay. He’ll make me waver and that’s no good. So this is it, I tell myself. I’m going forth on a new journey. There won’t be anyone else that I’ll know, but I think fate is funny bringing a stranger in my life.

Just when I think I won’t see anyone from high school anymore, Fan Boy becomes one of my neighbours. In fact, he lives on the same floor as me, three doors down from my room. He is moving in like me, except he has more belongings to bring in unlike me. I would help out if the two of us were introduced with each other, but since we are strangers, I don’t do anything. I unlock the door and throw in my knapsack and gym bag. Too tired to even make my way to my room, I settle on lying on the wooden floor of the small living room. The whole place is pretty empty.

I see that boy in my mind upon closing my eyes. It has only been a month, but I see a few minor changes in him. His hair has grown longer and I think he recently got piercings on his ears. His skin is quite bare and seems to have fewer pimples than before. His double eyelids seem bigger now and there is more life in his otherwise desolate stare. I’m not exactly sure who or what made him change, but I like how he is moving forward.

After lying on my makeshift bed for too long, I roll over and force myself up. I’m too hungry to even sleep it through. Guess I’ll just make a run for the convenience store. I’m glad I was smart enough to pick an apartment that had a few stores and restaurants scattered here and there. There will be days where I’ll be too tired to cook, especially when I’ll be working three days a week at a clothing store. I throw on my hoodie and slip on my trainers. Tapping my jeans, I’m relieved that I didn’t lose my keys and wallet.

Now what should I eat and drink?

All the way to the store, I keep trying to answer that question. I’m being too indecisive these days, like I’m not even sure if I’m going to the right major. Finance just seems stable. Thinking about this just makes my head ache. I guess I’ll stock up on some beer and some sake. That should be good.

As the doors automatically open, I head to the fridge. I grab at least six cans of beer and then throw two rice rolls onto the counter. The cashier tells me the price and just as my hand slips into my pocket, I see him pass by this store. He has a small cupcake in his hand and a candle in another. I don’t see why he doesn’t get the lady to pack up these two things into a bag. Is it because he wants someone to take notice of these items? If yes, then why?

“Sir?” the cashier reminds me to pay.

“Ah yes, sorry,” I mumble quietly and fumble through my wallet. “I just thought I saw someone familiar.”

Once I place the change onto the tray, the cashier punches a few numbers, grumbling, “Well, you should have greeted your friend then.”

I’m thinking . . . he’s not exactly a friend when he has no idea that I exist. Still, I lie, “Yeah, I should have asked him why he was holding onto a candle and a cupcake.”

“Someone’s birthday?” The cashier places a finger on her lips. “Or maybe it’s his own? I mean, usually people don’t give other people something that small. And usually it’s cake right?”

Immediately I sprint down an aisle even though the cashier is yelling at me. She has no idea why I’m leaving my stuff behind, but I know exactly why. Pacing down another aisle, I stop once I see what I want to buy: skincare. I know he is starting to change, but he probably doesn’t have all of his supplies. I don’t think he is particularly rich since he’s living in my building. Scanning quickly, I holler at the cashier, “Which toner has been rated pretty highly?”

Most likely pitying me, the cashier walks towards me and helps me pick out a toner. Luckily, it’s not too expensive or too cheap, and it just so happens that I have enough money left to buy this. Upon scanning the time, the cashier notes with her eyes slanted downwards, “I hope this isn’t a gift for your girlfriend. It seems kind of . . .”

Stupid? Odd? Yeah, I know that this isn’t the best gift out there, but it’s practical or at least I hope it will be. I know I should just ignore her comment. However, I correct her, “It’s not for my girlfriend.”

“Oh.”

So I make my way back home, and by the time I reach home, I realize that I’m not very sure which room she lives in. I don’t even know how I’m going to give this to him without seeming weird. I let out a sigh and place everything I have bought onto the ground. Planting my bottom to the floor, I reach into the bag for a beer, my rice rolls, and the toner. As I’m filling up my stomach, I toss the toner up and down. I’m not sure what to do with this exactly. I guess I’ll give it to him one day. I’m glad the expiry date on these things is long. Who knows when we will actually meet or if we will ever meet?

But before I forget, I dig through everything I have for my pencil case. I get out a sharpie and a sticky note. Then, I write: “Happy Birthday.” I’m not sure what else to add before I stick this on the toner. It seems shallow to leave it at that, so I add: “Keep going. I know you can do it. Cheers!”

I know he’ll eventually fall for you. I have this feeling that that douche bag will learn to appreciate her. As superficial as this seems, he will be intrigued by his transformation and hopefully won’t care about gender. Fan Boy wasn’t ugly to begin with, but of course, he isn’t the most beautiful. There’s just something about him that makes me wonder.

I wonder . . . what it’d be like to actually meet him.


	6. New Beginnings 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeon Jungkook moves to his new apartment and also meets Jung Hoseok, a teenager working at a bakery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've included this note in the beginning of this story, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to put this note in front of every chapter. 
> 
> This is a slow burn fan fiction. Some characters like Hoseok and Yoongi do not show up until later in the story, so please be patient with me. The tags are not misleading! The characters will appear in the later chapters. The same goes for the pairings. Also, I think it's fair to list the fandoms involved though they might not have as major as of a role compared to BTS. Minor characters are just as important as major ones in my opinion.
> 
> Thank you for your understanding and for your patience!

Iwant to save money, so I ask Jin to lend me his almost broken car. He is even nice enough to help load my luggage from my home to the car. Then, the two of us unload the few belongings that I have to the lobby. When he sees what I have packed, he laughs at me in disbelief.

“That’s it?” Jin shrieks so loudly that the birds fly away. “That’s all you have?”

I bite my lower lip and look at the ground. Once I place a box of kitchenware onto the ground, I mutter,

“Y-y-yeah.”

“It’s amazing how you have so little!” He gives me a soft pat on the shoulder while shaking his head. As he sighs, he gawks at me straight in the end to warn me, “All right. I’ve got to get going to my girlfriend’s place. She has a gig tonight and I’m supposed to help set up some equipment for her.”

“Yup, thanks for all your help!” I shout at Jin who is already dashing to his car that is illegally parked in front of the entrance of this eight-story high apartment.

Even though there are several floors and an elevator in this building, this place is rather old and shabby. The building’s walls are starting to crumble, and there are weird vines growing up them. The key that my landlord handed me for the front door is the classic sort that’s too simple to be safe. That’s what one gets with a limited budget. In this sense, my life is easier because of the few belongings I own. Lifting what I own into the elevator isn’t as tiring as someone with a closet full of clothing. Plus, I’m getting furniture later on. For now, I’ll just sleep on the ground.

I can’t help letting out a sigh once I manage to bring most of what I have into my room. This place isn’t big at all. I have all the basic necessities cramped into three areas: the living room/kitchen, my bedroom, and the washroom. There’s actually another room, but that’s for my roommate who has yet to come. That’s not really why I sighed. I sighed because it’s my birthday but no one has realized it yet. My parents already bought me something before and I appreciate that. However, on the actual day, they’re too busy working to even tell me in person: “Happy Birthday.” This year is another birthday celebrated without cake. I don’t know how long it has been this way. Was this after our family’s financial crisis?

 

I know I shouldn’t mind that the friends that I have don’t remember. People these days are bad with dates. I think that’s an excuse though. If we were all bad with dates, then why is it that some people have birthday parties? Maybe, they planned their festivities by themselves to remind their friends of their birthdays. There are surprise parties though.

 

It’s just that every year on this particular day, I feel especially lonely. Am I that unpopular? Why am I even seeking for their wishes? Am I that self-conscious? I release another sigh and decide to head out. I have to buy myself something to celebrate this day to justify that there’s a meaning to my existence. I wonder what I should buy. It should be something like cake, something sweet, but nothing large. I can’t finish a whole cake by myself. It’s too expensive anyways.

 

Now, I grab my keys and lock the door. As I make my way down the hall, I see him walking towards me. It’s Taehyung. He lives here too? The way Taehyung stares at me makes me shudder. I hope he doesn’t know that my fingers are trembling so much that this empty cardboard box might just as well fall off from my grasp. I feel that he’s assessing me. Does he notice that I’m slowly changing? I took some of the money that I earned to get a proper haircut from the salon. Instead of cutting my own hair, I’m finally letting someone decide what matches my face shape. I even looked online for magazines about skincare and fashion. I’m starting out with the basics before saving more money for more supplies. Clothes will have to wait until I earn more as well. I’ll probably research where good second-hand clothes are sold. Then, I’ll be able to have more outfits and mix and match.

 

This trip to the elevator is supposed to be short and quick, yet passing by him makes it hard for me to breathe. Knowing that he lives on the same floor as me is scary. Maybe fate is toying with me, forcing me to not be lazy. I must change, and I think I am. Mom thinks I’m secretly dating some girl and shakes her head whenever she sees me now. Dad is too busy working to even care. It’s okay, though. I don’t need them to understand what I’m doing. This is truly for the best.

 

That’s what I keep saying to myself even when I’m walking down the streets in search of a bakery. I keep strolling down this somewhat empty street. A few bicycles pass by here and there. Sometimes, children are racing down the alley. I think it’s cute how they’re still kids. It makes me feel nostalgic. It makes me think of those innocent days where I just played all day with my best friends, who have long separated from me. It is not that we became enemies. It’s just that we have changed, and friends come and go. They’re replaceable as much as we’d like to think otherwise. Sadly, that’s just how it is, I keep reminding myself before I finally arrive at a local bakery.

 

Inside this shop, there are the typical loaves of bread and different sorts of pastries here and there. For some reason, a row of cupcakes catch my eye. One of the workers tells me, “These cupcakes are part of new line that our pâtissier has developed. He thought that people would like cute, small treats rather than huge cakes.”

 

I look up to find a young teenager, maybe around seventeen, standing behind the counter. He is dressed in white like the assistant of the pastry chef. I wonder if this is his full time job or if he is just here for some extra cash. If this is his dream, then I’m surprised that his parents allow him to do this. He’s lucky. Sometimes, I wish my family would let me do what I wanted. Secretly, I have always dreamed to be a writer. I’d like to have a series published, one that is as popular as Harry Potter. Obviously, I never tell my parents of this dream. It’s far too idealistic and impractical. What are the chances of becoming the next Harry Potter writer? Slim, too slim to waste my youth on. That’s why I resort to writing online. At least, there are a few readers here and there. I want to, at least, share what I have. Maybe I’m not the most popular writer online, and I probably won’t be. However, knowing that there’s someone in this world reading my works makes me content already. Really, that’s the reason for writing right?

 

Now, I focus my attention back to the cupcakes. There’s one that has dark chocolate and mint sprinkled on top. I think that’s the one for me, and the boy with short, spiked hair blurts, “I really like that flavour. There’s just a bit of spice to it and bitterness that matches perfectly with the sweetness.”

 

“Then, I’ll get it.” I look at him to find his large hazelnut eyes widening.

 

With a sweet smile, the boy shouts, “Okay! I’ll pack that up for you!”

 

As I watch him do his job, I ask, “Is it all right if you give me a candle?”

He gazes at me with much puzzlement until he gasps and slams both his palms on the glass counter. “It’s your birthday?” he shrieks. Once I nod, he shouts even louder, “Oh god! Happy Birthday!” Then, he accidentally wonders aloud, “But wait . . . is that your birthday cake?”

I force myself to grin and chuckle. “No,” I find myself lying, “my friends have one for me. I just wanted to—“

The boy frowns at me as if knowing all along that I was lying. He lets out a scoff before muttering, “There’s really nothing bad about celebrating by yourself. I’m usually too busy in the store to remember anything about dates. Heck, holidays are our busiest days. I don’t get to celebrate Christmas.”

“Yeah,” I mumble almost too quietly, “I guess I shouldn’t complain . . .”

“Well, I was trying to make you feel better.” He glances in the other direction with his cheeks slightly burning. Scratching the back of his head, he suggests, “How about I treat you to this?”

“Wh-wh-what? No!” I wave my hands in front of him. How could I let a teenage boy help me out? Plus, I don’t even know his name. It seems wrong to take advantage of a stranger.

He reassures me with another gentle grin. Staring intently at me, he confirms, “Yes, let’s just make it that way. Of course, it’d be great if you could visit our shop often or help us advertise. To be honest, I don’t get why no one is coming in here. Our chef, Taemin, makes great cakes and other goods, but . . . I don’t know.”

 

I can see that wavering in the young boy’s eyes. He’s wondering if he made the right choice to dedicate his career to baking. Obviously, his mentor isn’t doing too well. I think it’s the problem with this location. People here aren’t looking to spend extra money for unnecessary food. Cakes are something extra. If you don’t have one, it’s not like you won’t survive. I’m sure his chef had no choice but to locate here. The rent is by far cheaper than any other area. You’ve got to start somewhere, right? Except . . . sometimes, you just won’t make it big. I feel that guiltiness gulping down my throat. I don’t really want to be the bearer of bad news. I don’t really want to tear down his dream.

 

So, I widely push my lips apart to laugh. “Don’t worry about it!” I exclaim. “People will come! You just have to attract people! You know, step out and ask them to come in or have samples!”

 

“Thanks.” He returns to his typical cheerful attitude. “I’ll do my best.”

 

“No problem. I need to thank you for your gift too.”

 

“Oh, that’s nothing! Seriously, don’t sweat it! You deserve to have a nice birthday!” He hands me the wrapped good.

 

I feel bad for making him waste perfectly fine paper on me. I end up stating, “I’ll just take the cupcake and the candle. You’ve really done enough . . .”

 

“Jung Hoseok! But everyone likes to call me Hobie,” he chirps. “And you? What’s your name?”

 

“Jeon Jungkook,” I announce in a surprisingly clear, crisp voice.

 

As Hoseok unwraps the box containing the cupcake, he says, “Well, Jungkook, I wish you a Happy Birthday. Sixteenth birthday?”

 

“No, it’s my eighteenth,” I correct him.

 

Immediately, his palms clasp together, and he begs, “Oh! I’m so sorry! I thought you were the same age as me!”

 

“No, it’s all right."

"Ah gosh, I shouldn’t have talked so informally!”

Somehow, it feels weird to be hear that coming from Hoseok’s mouth. He really doesn’t seem that young. He has those daunting, playful eyes, prominent cheekbones, and a strong jaw line. His forehead slumps a bit over his eyes, creating a sort of Eurasian look. He has a very straight, tall nose and plump lips. He’s a decent height and is rather fit for his age. From his white shirt, I can see the shape of his toned arms. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he were part of a sports team. Of course, he’s too pale to have participated in a lot of sports and he has that sense of delicacy to him. He reminds me of a  _kabuki_  actor specializing in female roles.

 

I honestly don’t know why I would say this, but I suggest to him, “Sometimes my friends call me JK, so you can call me that.”

 

“Really?” He nearly slips on his toes. “But that seems so rude.”

 

“Well,” I mumble, “you said I could call you Hobie?”

 

“Yeah! Of course!” he shouts before stretching his hands in front of him. “All right! You can call me Hobie and let’s see . . .” Placing his index finger on his lower lip, he cocks his head to the side and then proclaims with way too much excitement, “I know! I’ll call you Jungkookie!”

 

He sticks out his tongue just as I hold the goods in my hands. When I turn around to frown at him, he waves at me merrily. I leave the store, but Somehow, I’m regretting letting this kid know my name. I can’t believe he just jumps to creating a nickname for me! Even my mom doesn’t get to call me Jungkookie. What makes this little boy think that he can skip all formalities? I guess he’s still young, still in high school so that’s why he can be so light-hearted. In fact, he kind of reminds me of Taehyung, except Hoseok isn’t as wild as him. Hoseok has that touch of playfulness without going too overboard. Taehyung, on the other hand, can catch you completely off-guard to the point where you’re too stunned to even make a peep. To be honest, Hoseok would make an interesting character for a story I have in mind. I may as well visit the store more often to understand his personality more. That way, I can develop his character. I’m just not very sure what protagonist would pair with Hoseok. I guess . . . I’ll worry about that later. I’ll just hurry up and eat this cupcake before midnight. Then, it’s time to say good-bye to this birthday.

 


	7. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've included this note in the beginning of this story, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to put this note in front of every chapter. 
> 
> This is a slow burn fan fiction. Some characters like Hoseok and Yoongi do not show up until later in the story, so please be patient with me. The tags are not misleading! The characters will appear in the later chapters. The same goes for the pairings. Also, I think it's fair to list the fandoms involved though they might not have as major as of a role compared to BTS. Minor characters are just as important as major ones in my opinion.
> 
> Thank you for your understanding and for your patience!

I’m off to search for breakfast before I head off to school. Luckily after walking for a bit, I spot this bakery just at the end of the road. I’m honestly surprised to find a teenage boy at the cashier. I wonder why he’s not going to school at this time. Oh wait, it’s only 7:00 am. Is he that poor or what? I’m honestly confused about his presence. The guy stares me down, making me feel annoyed. I already didn’t sleep last night because I didn’t get a bed yet. I guess I’ll go furniture shopping after class. There’s not much to do for the first week anyways.

 

I can’t help but scoff, “What? There’s something on my face? Or do you just like to stare at people rudely?”

 

The kid mumbles, “No . . .”

 

“Say, aren’t you supposed to be at school?” I begin to interrogate.

 

His frown deepens as he questions back, “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

 

“Haha!” I laugh too loudly. “Me? Work? Do I look that old, kiddo?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

I grab a bun that I spot on one of the shelves and a brownie. Then, I walk towards the cash registrar and tell him, “You’re a funny kid, Jung Hoseok.”

 

“How’d you know—“

 

“You have a name tag,” I explain.

 

“Oh . . .”

 

“So . . . why aren’t you at school?” I slip one of my hands into my pockets while asking.

 

He presses a few buttons before replying, “That will be 5000 won and I will go to school soon. It’ll be my last year of high school. Thank god.”

“High school is that bad huh?”

 

Hoseok nods his head like a robot. “Horrible,” he declares monotonously. “Absolutely pointless and horrible.”

 

“I take it you’re single?”

 

“No, I’m not single.”

 

“Then what’s so bad about high school?”

 

“I want to be a pastry chef, but what I’m learning in school is not going to help me in that area.”

 

He shoots me a vicious, all-knowing look. I’m kind of reminded of myself, except I’m sure this kid doesn’t rebel much at school. He’s one of those silent, resilient types, who doesn’t say much yet actually has a lot to offer outside of school. I’m thinking to myself that Hoseok hasn’t experienced failure yet. I know I have. I once dreamed of being the best soccer player in Korea, but then realized that I had no talent. I was just a player that knew a few tricks. I wonder now if this kid has skills. I find that if you have talent and determination to fulfill your dream, then you will succeed. If you’re missing either one, you’re lost or are destined to fail.

 

“Well, here’s your money, and I suggest you treat everything as a learning experience. Maybe your English will be handy if you go study elsewhere for baking,” I clarify and throw the change into the pan. “And you should work on your French if your goal is to go to Paris.”

 

Surprisingly, Hoseok’s eyes almost pop out. In an elated shout, he utters, “You’re right!” Slapping his forehead, he groans, “Ugh! Why didn’t I think of that? Damn it!”

 

I can’t believe I’m chuckling but I am. “It’s fine. You still have time, but . . . I bet you’re going to break up.”

 

“What?” He almost chokes on his own saliva but manages to cough up a retort. “What are you talking about?”

Relieving a sigh, I note, “Trust me . . . when you graduate, you two will break up. It’s inevitable, especially with that career choice of yours.”

 

“What’s wrong with being a pastry chef?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow at me.

 

I try to give him the benefit of the doubt and continue on interrogating, “Do you guys share the same dream then?”

 

Hoseok shakes his head nervously to answer, “No . . . he’s probably going to be doctor. He is a really smart guy, you know?”

 

I snap my fingers to demonstrate my point. “Exactly! And you aren’t going to university are you?”

 

“N-n-no?”

 

“Exactly. You’re on two different paths, pal.” My head sways side to side. I feel bad for him really. He’s just a kid. Still, I do my duty and break the news to him: “You really think he is going to stick with someone that doesn’t even have his college degree?”

 

“In the pastry—“

 

“You really think his parents would like you?” I cut him off almost too immediately. “They probably want her to marry a doctor. A doctor marrying another doctor sounds awfully good. Don’t you think?”

 

Avoiding eye contact, Hoseok shrugs his shoulders. “I guess so.”

 

As I open the door, I look over my shoulder and utter, “Don’t let what I said mess up what you have now. Just enjoy the time you have with her, and when it comes, don’t make me say that I told you so.”

 

Just when I finish my sentence, a guy enters through the door. He almost bumps into me, causing me to drop the buns in my hand. I nearly curse at him, but I don’t after realizing that it’s him. It’s Fan Boy. He is going to have breakfast here now?

 

“Ah Jungkookie!” I hear Sentaro’s voice brighten like no tomorrow. “What would you—“

 

The door shuts all that I can absorb in my ears. I guess I know his nickname now. Jungkookie. His real name should be Jungkook. Honestly, that suits him a lot. His parents probably wanted a sweet, strong child, and he does seem like the type to have a gentle soul. I can picture him consoling that poor baker boy that has been traumatized by me. What a pitiful, pitiful scene. The damage that I have done is absolutely irreversible. I seriously feel like a villain destined to kill off the hero. So be it, let me be the bearer of bad news and shake the kid to reality. Reality bites, hurts, fucking double slaps you, but that’s how the world works.

 

Sad.

 

* * *

 

 

I decide to do as Hoseok has requested. I start visiting his workplace more often. The cupcake was rather delicious; I think he chose the right one for me. What I don’t expect is to find Taehyung leaving the place. I hear a bit of his sentence, the last part about enjoying the time Hoseok had with her and not making Taehyung say that he told Hoseok so. I honestly don’t understand what the two talked about, but once I see Hoseok’s face, I know something is up.

 

Even though Hoseok is greeting me with a smile, he seems too happy to actually be naturally happy. Whatever Taehyung did is affecting Hoseok. Even Hoseok’s tone is wrong. “Ah Sumi! What would you like today?” Hoseok asks in a bubbly tone. “The chef has baked this almond croissant and a dark chocolate one. I think the dark chocolate would be better for you. You don’t really look like someone that would like—“

 

“Hobie . . .”

 

“Yeah? What? You don’t like either? There are also these—“

 

“Hobie, that’s not it,” I cut him off.

 

“Then . . . what?”

I can’t believe I’m being nosy here, yet I still wonder, “Did something happen before I came here?”

 

“No,” Hoseok tries to lie, “nothing happened.”

 

I know he’s lying because he can’t face me, and he is touching the back of his neck. Hoseok is such a bad liar unlike Taehyung. I’m sure if Taehyung said everything was okay, I’d believe him. “Wh-whatever it is,” I state, “don’t let it get to you.”

 

There’s a moment of silence between us. Hoseok is now looking at me intently. I’m a bit anxious to be honest. I’m not used to someone giving me his or her full attention. Then, suddenly, Hoseok blurts, “Do you think my boyfriend would break up with me after I graduate because I won’t be going to university?”

 

“Umm . . .”

 

“He would right?” Hoseok slumps his shoulders over and rests his elbows on the counter. “I guess what that guy said was right. My boyfriend who is off to medical school wouldn’t want to stick with someone like me.”

 

For the first time, I recognize that even someone like Hoseok could have his own securities. I’m sure he is frequently overshadowed by his brilliance. I imagine him to be smart and handsome, the type that excelled in everything and Hoseok would seem like his foil. Hoseok probably had poor grades at school and didn’t do much for sports. He just had his baking and maybe his looks. Those would never match up with her, and I knew how that felt—to always be the inferior, to always be the outcast and to always be the loser. I don’t want to feel that way anymore. I’ve been trying to prove that my life is meaningful too, that there’s a purpose out there for me. Hoseok . . . he shouldn’t even have to feel this way. He already has a vision, and I’m sure he has talent or else this chef wouldn’t hire him. Hoseok just needs to be encouraged, and so I do him a favour like he had done for me.

 

“Don’t get discouraged,” I reassure him. “Maybe it seems like he is better than you now, but trust me, I think you’ll be able to fulfill your dream. I have faith in you.”

 

“But you haven’t even tasted my food?”

“I don’t know Hobie,” I say. “I just . . . have a feeling that you’ll make it. I know you’ll give it your all just like you have been for your relationship right? Even if it doesn’t work out, at least you’ve tried. Just don’t stop trying. And he probably knows all your faults now, so if she has chosen you, then you’re not worse than him.”

 

Sen buries his head in his arms, mumbling, “I-I-I’m just worried. What if . . . he can’t go on supporting my dream? I want to study in Paris one day, so we’ll be away from each other. I’d love to take him with me, but he’d still be in school. Then what?”

 

I end up patting Hoseok’s head. “It’ll be okay, Hobie,” I mutter. “You’re not even accepted to Paris yet. I think it’s a bit early to say that.”

 

Instantly, he looks up to glare at me, reminding me of a fierce cougar about to rip apart its prey. “Hey! I will get to Paris, all right? Don’t look down on me,” he proclaims in a serious tone.

 

I believe this is the first time I have ever seen him become so stern. I know now never to doubt his dreams. Hoseok is the sort that won’t rest unless he accomplishes his goals. He’s the crazy one that will step up even if defeated over and over again; he’ll smile at criticism any time because that’ll make him improve. But, he’ll most definitely frown if you don’t believe in him.

 

“Sorry,” I murmur softly and lay my head low.

 

I’m expecting Hoseok to yell at me or ignore me. Instead, I feel a hand ruffle my hair on the top of my head. Glancing up, I find Hoseok cheekily smiling. Then, he flashes his tongue at me and chuckles. “I was just playing with you!” he jokes before bursting out in laughter. “Jungkookie, you take things way too seriously! Chill! Chill!”

 

I almost want to snap at him, but when I see him grinning away, my anger subsides. I know he doesn’t want to distort the atmosphere; he’d rather everything be out of fun. So, I let him have it his way. “I’m glad you’re all right, Hobie,” I inform him.

 

Politely smiling at me now, he agrees, “Yeah, thank you, Hobie.”

 

“No, no, I didn’t do anything!”

 

I wave my hand at him and back away. The silly me trips over my own feet and lands on my bottom. The floor is made of granite that I end up wincing and groaning in pain while Hoseok is snickering. Hoseok still comes over with a chummy face and reaches his hand out to me.

 

“Here,” he suggests like a gentleman at a ball.

 

I accidentally pull too hard that Hoseok loses his balance and falls over. We’re in an extremely awkward position. I somehow end up buried under his belly button and can barely breathe. I’m sure this looks wrong to whoever that is passing by. What makes matter worse is that Sen moves forward, meaning that I’m getting closer to his crotch.

 

“H-H-H—“

 

“What?” he grumbles and after a minute, he realizes what’s happening because of my suffocated voice. Immediately, he rolls over to his back and laughs his heart out.

 

“Th-th-that wasn’t funny,” I complain, thinking about how gross it was to be near centimetres away from burying my nose in that area.

 

As I stand up and wipe the dust off of my jeans, Hoseok, still on the ground, looks up at me and says, “Thanks Jungkookie. I owe you one.”

 

“No, it’s fine. We all have our ups and downs.”

 

“Well, I won’t be able to sleep on it if I don’t thank you back.” Hoseok hops on his two feet and flashes a heartwarming smile at me. “How about this? You get to try everything I make, fresh from the batch,” he suggests.

 

Somehow that sounds more advantageous to him. Is it really safe to eat Hoseok’s food? I don’t want to upset him. I don’t really want to be poisoned either. The better part of me wins, and I nod my head. “Sure, that’d be good. Just . . . try not to make me fat.”

“What? You’re on a diet?” Hoseok eyes me quizzically and then leans almost too close to my face. “Are you . . . in love with someone, Jungkookie?”

 

“Wh-wh-what?” I accidentally spit in his eye. He did stand rather close to me. “No!” I shout. “Of course not! Why would I be in love with someone? That’s just—“

 

“It’s okay to like someone Jungkookie,” Hoseok interrupts.

 

“But that’s not why I want to lose weight.”

 

“Oh . . . okay.”

 

“It’s more of a personal improvement sort of thing,” I clarify.

 

Hoseok doesn’t seem to believe me, but he still bobs his head up and down. “Okay, well, I’ll help you out too. I’ll get Yoongi to take you out shopping!”

 

“Yoongi? Your boyfriend?”

 

“Yeah, he’ll get you fixed up in no time!”

 

“Um, it’s okay,” I urge. “I can look at magazines by myself. I mean, I have been studying and I don’t think your boyfriend would really like me there.”

 

Hoseok places his palm over his face and waves his hand at me. “Nonsense! Yoongi wouldn’t get jealous over this little thing! Honestly, Jungkookie, you’re way too serious!”

 

No, I want to correct Jungkook. I have a ton of friends who are dating so I know what their partners would think. Who would want his partner to suddenly have a friend who also happens to live close to where he works? I really don’t want to spoil their relationship and Hoseok honestly doesn’t like me in that way. He’s just the nice kind of guy who likes to help out. I can imagine him building houses in a developing country if he were not baking.

 

“Well, I still think it’s a bad idea,” I regurgitate my point, hoping that he’ll understand what I mean.

 

Unfortunately, Hoseok is too stubborn and reassures me, “I’ve been dating Yoongi since the first year of high school, so I think I know what he’s like. Don’t sweat it. I’ll arrange it to happen and he’ll thank you for saving our relationship! Anyway give me your phone.”

 

“Wh-wh-what?”

 

“I said, give me your phone,” he demands while motioning me to hand over my device with his fingers. I don’t know why I listen to him, but I do what he says. I watch him do a few moves, and then he returns my phone. “There! Now I can send you the date, time, and location of our meeting!” I think he notices my appalled stare for he asks, “What? Why the sad face?”

 

“No, it’s just that . . .”

 

“You’re still worried that Yoongi will take it the wrong way?” He pats my shoulder a few times before confirming, “Trust me. It’ll be fun! Don’t think too much!”

 

And that’s how I unexpectedly gain two helpers to help makeover myself. That’s also how I become friends with Hoseok. He’s really a great guy. Yoongi is lucky to have him, and I hope one day that I’ll find someone just as good as Hoseok. I’m not attracted to him in any way, but it would be nice to have a boyfriend that would make others slightly jealous. I’m a bit jealous of Yoongi’s luck in high school. All the guys at my school were lame. Well . . . there is someone that might not be that bad. Taehyung, you’re really something special and I’m not sure how you’re doing right now, but I think you’ll be just okay.


	8. Starting Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've included this note in the beginning of this story, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to put this note in front of every chapter. 
> 
> This is a slow burn fan fiction. Some characters like Hoseok and Yoongi do not show up until later in the story, so please be patient with me. The tags are not misleading! The characters will appear in the later chapters. The same goes for the pairings. Also, I think it's fair to list the fandoms involved though they might not have as major as of a role compared to BTS. Minor characters are just as important as major ones in my opinion.
> 
> Thank you for your understanding and for your patience!

The first week of school has been nothing but a breeze. Absolute bore, and I was expecting university to be more interesting. I find it is high school all over again, except people are even more alcohol and sex driven and sometimes lazier. Actually, you’ll realize there are a lot of different people lurking on campus. You just have to find the crowd, but I don’t do that sort of sh.it. I’m tempted to skip all clubs, but I know my resume needs to be filled up with activities. Let’s apply for some positions, shall we?

I’m thinking about some obscure club that no one really cares about; surely, there will be more executive positions available for me. I have to join some finance one too, something relevant would be good as well. Be well-rounded huh? I think I have it all covered. I’m passing by these booths at clubs’ week. There are so many clubs that shouldn’t exist like the pop culture club or the Sudoku club. They’re pretty meaningless, but I guess if you want to meet people like you, then you go to those types of clubs. Like people go with like . . . right.

 

“Hey!” I feel a tug on my arm before being dragged to a booth. “Why don’t you join the fashion club?” I can feel this girl’s boobs press against me. I guess she’s trying to seduce me to be part of her scheme. She’ll need bigger breasts than that.

 

“No,” I utter.

 

“Oh come on.” She winks at me while pouting her round lips at me. “You’ll meet a lot of hot girls! Plus, you look pretty cool. I think you’d look awesome as one of our male models for our charity fashion show.”

 

I give her a good stare and decide that she’s rather ugly. She is trying to be cool with those neon, retro-framed glasses, but they’re way too big for her face. Plus, she has a huge mole above her lip and teeth that remind me of a chipmunk. Nope. That will never persuade me to join her club.

 

“No, really.” I pull my arm away from her. “I think I’m—“

 

“I’ll give you a position for sure.”

 

“What position?” My eyes narrow at her pupils, trying not to focus on her flaws.

 

“You can be our secretary! I’m the president.”

 

Hearing that role, I immediately mutter, “Forget it.” Being a secretary would mean that I’d have to go to every meeting and actually pay attention. What’s worse is that I’m directly under her. Gross.

 

“Then, what if I let you be in charge of events?” she proposes just as I’m about to walk away.

 

Mm . . . that sounds more like it. Events. That sounds more legit. “No interviews?” I question.

 

“Nope.”

 

“And no resumes or cover letters?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Why?” I proclaim. “What makes you think I’d be good at this?”

 

“Just a feeling, and I like your style . . .”

 

“Kim Taehyung.”

 

“I like your name too.” She shows off her squirrel-like fangs. Placing her fingertips on her lips, she chants, “Kim Taehyung. You’re quite the bad boy, aren’t you?”

 

I just scoff and walk over to the signup sheet on one of her booths. As I’m filling out the table, I warn her, “You better not pull any tricks.”

 

“It’s Son Chaeyoung.”

 

“Whatever, thanks for the job.” I don’t even face her and just wave back at her. I move along to another row of posters and displays. There sure are a lot of people here. God, I hate people with their strong perfumes that suffocate me. Sometimes, people go all bare, which is worse. Body odour. People need to learn.

 

Just when I’m stuck between a guy who is trying to convince a group of girls to join the Christian club and another girl who is explaining to a nerd about golf, I feel a small push. “Excuse me,” I hear a familiar voice. It’s Jungkook’s. This is the first time I assess his voice. He doesn’t have a high-pitched voice like Jimin. Instead, he reminds me of a radio host, not too deep but alluring. I finally get another look at him too as he has reached the stall she wanted: the manga club. His hair even has gel in it and I see a few more piercings around his ears. His eyes, though, are still the same. They’re pretty mundane in colour, the typical shade of brown, and in shape, almond, average sized eyes. His nose is on the bigger side, yet he has a very high nose bridge. His face is interestingly shaped, a bit angular yet still oval. I can’t say he is ugly nor can I say he is handsome. I can say that he is refreshing and angelic in a bizarre way. It’s not like Sungkyung’s innocence that stems purely from naivety. It’s more like having an unwavering heart untainted by sinfulness.

 

Then I realize again where he is at: the manga club. Why in the world would he be there? I look at the executives in charge of the station. There’s a guy with large, round glasses and short hair. Then, there’s that girl with pig tails and bangs. They don’t seem to care much about fashion; they’re dressed in plain jeans and t-shirts that are way too big for their shoulders. Honestly, I don’t get why Jungkook is going for that club. Is it because they are missing executives? I guess I can try out my luck.

 

I end up wandering to that location, and as soon as I’m a foot away from the two executives, they are standing with their backs straight in fear. I don’t blame them. I don’t look like a manga fanatic. In fact, I’ve never even flipped through one before after elementary school. I threw away that hobby since it wasn’t cool anymore. Manga is for kids, for useless dreamers, so I slam my palm hard on the table.  
  


“Are there any exec positions?” I holler.

 

“Y-Y-Yes,” the guy stammers. “Communications.”

 

“What do I need to do for that?”

 

“C-c-create posters u-u-using Photoshop, umm . . . send emails to members . . . What else, Mingyu?” The girl nudges him with her elbow.

 

“M-m-maintain our website, a-a-and sell tickets to our events,” he answers without making any eye contact at me.

 

I relax my tone and reach for the pen on their table. “So, I just sign up on this sheet here?” I point to a sheet of paper displaying a poorly made chart.

 

The girl finally takes a deep breath and answers, “Yes, just fill in the chart there, and we will email you what you need to do next. We-we-we’re thinking of having interviews next week?”

 

As I’m completing this table, I see the job that Jungkook wants. It’s editor-in-chief for their newsletter or whatever they have. His writing is unexpectedly messy, almost too cursive to be legible. Now that gets me wondering what her room would be like. Is he a disorganized guy who somehow manages to find everything amongst all the clutter or is he a neat freak who can’t stand a bit of dust?

 

“So, Taehyung, I am K-K-K-Kim Jisoo and I’m in charge of finance,” the girl states.

 

The guy fixes his glasses before uttering, “I-I-I’m Kim Mingyu. I’m the p-p-president of the manga club.”

 

I try my best not to laugh. This guy has got to be the least confident person I’ve ever met. I’m surprised he is a leader of a club. If he can be the head of something, then I should just start my own thing. What sort of club would I make? The pessimists clan? Sounds good already.

 

I still maintain my manners, and give him a smile along with a slight bow. “Nice to meet you,” I utter. “Well, I’ll be off now. I have to go to class.”

 

“Sure! Good to see you too!” Jisoo flashes her white teeth at me. She’s at least better looking than that girl from the fashion club.

 

\---

I overhear from a few people that it’s club’s week, so I take a turn to the student centre. The first week here has felt a bit like high school in a way. There are course introductions. However, there are way, way more people in a hall. The whole place is nearly packed, and there are no familiar faces. For some courses, you have people waiting outside to head in to steal the best spots. I guess I better do the same in the future. Moreover, the professors don’t seem to care about the students at all. Sometimes, when a student asks a question, a professor may ignore him or her completely. What I mean is that the a professor won’t respond to a question wholeheartedly; he or she just wants to teach and then get out of here.

 

So, after a disappointing round of classes, I pray that I will find a few clubs suitable for me. I know it is important to be involved at school because I need to meet more people somehow. Maybe if I try to find people with shared interests as me, then I’ll succeed. As I’m walking down the row surrounded by tables, I’m wondering what I even like to do. Write? I guess that’s what I do the most these days, but I have stopped writing for several months now. I have been too busy preparing for school that I focused all my energy on studying. I suppose it would be nice to be part of a writing club, and that’s why I decide to stop at the booth for the school paper. 

 

Coincidently, I see Yugyeom hovering over the table. He is even jotting down his name on a sheet of paper. Immediately, I feel queasy in the stomach. I don’t really want to be facing him every week during a club meeting. I’m not ready to see him after that event in high school. In fact, I feel embarrassed if he even recognizes me. I can sometimes still hear those boys cackling and jeering at me in my head. I know high school is over, and university is a new chapter of my life, but sometimes, that moment haunts me. It strikes me down unexpectedly, and I feel trapped. I think there’s nothing I can do to change, but then I remember the promise I made with Taehyung. In a year, he will see a new me. I can’t disappoint him after all he has done to help me.

 

So, I still march forth to that table. I pretend like we are simply strangers and greet one of the girls working at the booth. She has a long, side pony tail and is wearing large, gold hoop earrings. She is clad in a tight baseball t-shirt paired with a blue plaid shirt. Smiling at me kindly, she utters, “You’re a first year right?” Once I nod, she hands me a clipboard and explains, “If you’re interested in becoming a writer, then please sign up here. Just leave your name, email, and phone number. We’ll be emailing you more information later on.”

 

“Okay,” I grab a pen while replying.

 

“I’m Park Sooyoung or Joy. Nice to meet you.”

 

With a bow, I greet, “I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

 

“Let’s just go with Jungkookie? Is that all right with you?” Joy asks.

 

I kind of want to say no, but I know she seems to be an important figure. So, I settle on agreeing, “Sure.”

“Great! You can call me Joy too!”

That’s how our conversation ends, and subconsciously, my eyes start searching for Yugyeom’s presence. I think I’m too used to of his figure that it’s weird not to be following him with my eyes. He is already gone, and for some reason, I feel slightly dejected. I really don’t understand myself. Logically speaking, I should forget about this jerk. I shouldn’t even hunt for his shadow, yet my body can’t lie anymore. I still . . . care about him and his thoughts of me. I don’t . . . want to be seen as a fool once again. I don’t . . .

 

“Excuse me, Miss,” I feel a girl pull me aside.

 

“Oh, no, excuse me,” I mutter at her because I seemed to have crashed into her.

 

This girl is rather cute with her pigtails and bangs. She has a nice smile too. Immediately, I feel comfortable talking to her. I think . . . she’s like me, and it’s okay for her to approach me. Her cheeks are truly red and her fingers are twirling one of her pig tails. “I . . . I . . . w-w-w-was wondering if . . .y-y-you’d want to join our club?” Her voice cracks halfway through her sentence.

 

I know she is trying her best because her eyes are completely closed and her nose is fairly wrinkled. I feel bad. I feel like I know. I know what that’s like to be living on the edge of fear, wondering if anyone will ever accept me. That’s why I answer without even considering what I’m doing, “Sure. Why not?”

 

The girl immediately leaps in the air and hugs the guy beside her. “Oh my god! Oh my god! Mingyu, we have our first new member!” she cheers ecstatically. “Thank you. Really, thank you . . .”

 

“I’m Jeon Jungkook,” I tell her.

 

“Oh!” The girl blasts a nice smile. “I’m Kim Jisoo! I’m doing finance! What position would you be interested in?”

 

“Umm . . . I actually . . .” I look up at their poster’s title and realize that this is the manga club. I don’t really know much about manga. My little sister likes to read shoujo manga, but I only know about _Skip Beat_. Other than that, I don’t know much. “I actually . . . don’t know anything about manga,” I admit.

“Oh . . . mmm . . . then . . .” Jisoo scratches the back of her head. “What should we do then, Mingyu?”

“Umm . . .” Mingyu fiddles with his watch to say, “I guess . . . we could try to revive . . . that newsletter?"

 

“But last year, it was a complete flop.”

 

“Well, maybe if we have different columns, then we could . . . work s-s-something out?” Mingyu argues.

 

“I-I-I guess . . .” Jisoo stutters before staring at me. “You could be . . . the editor-in-chief for that. You have any experience in writing?”

 

Suddenly, I feel my throat being caught up in a huge mess. Experience? I’ve been reading a ton of novels, and I have been writing my own stories in my own time. However, I have never revealed my intentions of becoming a writer to anyone. I just treated writing as a hobby. It’s just something I do for fun, I tell myself. Writing can’t make you money. Writing can’t feed you. But . . . I don’t know why I can’t seem to refuse this job. I can’t stop myself from ever writing. I am always jotting down thoughts in my spare time. I just can’t throw away my words, and therefore, I confess, “I . . . I do have some stories that I have written.”

 

“Stories?” Jisoo questions.

 

“Yeah . . .”

 

“Oh my god!” Jisoo suddenly shrieks and almost latches onto my arm. “I have the greatest idea ever! Mingyu, I think . . . this year will be a success! Jungkook, please fill out this form here, and I’ll email you straight away within this day about everything! Okay?”

 

“O-okay . . .” I hesitantly scribble down my contact details, wondering what this girl has in mind.

 

“We’ll be in contact soon!” Jisoo waves at me as I move along to leave this crowded room.

 

I think that’s enough for today. I don’t think I should sign up for too many clubs. I should focus on one or two things in life just like how Hoseok is only concentrating on his dream and his love life. Now that I think of Hoseok, I’m wondering what cake I should get on my way home. I think I deserve a bit of sweetness for trying out something new today. I put myself out there, and I’m making some progress. I think . . . this year will be a good one.

 

I think . . . I’m finally ready . . . for whatever life has to give to me.

 


	9. Hello and Good-bye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've included this note in the beginning of this story, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to put this note in front of every chapter. 
> 
> This is a slow burn fan fiction. Some characters like Hoseok and Yoongi do not show up until later in the story, so please be patient with me. The tags are not misleading! The characters will appear in the later chapters. The same goes for the pairings. Also, I think it's fair to list the fandoms involved though they might not have as major as of a role compared to BTS. Minor characters are just as important as major ones in my opinion.
> 
> Thank you for your understanding and for your patience!

When I arrive home, I’m surprised to find Sungkyung sitting in a chair in the kitchen and waving at me. “Hello!” she enthusiastically waves at me with her legs crossed together like in yoga. She is wearing her workout clothing consisting of black short shorts, a turquoise tank top and a black zip-up jacket. Her hair is nicely put in a ponytail and she has ear buds in her ears. As she turns off her IPhone, she smiles at me, saying, “Surprised, Tae Tae?”

 

Dropping my messenger bag on the ground and removing my shoes, I answer, “Y-yeah. How’d you—“

 

“I, Tae Tae, have my skills!” She winks at me playfully before hopping off her seat to rush to the fridge.

 

“I don’t remember giving you my spare key,” I tell her.

 

“Oh, the security guy let me in! I just told him that I was your girlfriend.” She giggles foolishly and sticks her head in the open fridge. “Say, Taehyung, you really don’t have anything to eat here! But . . . wait, what’s this?” Sungkyung lifts the pudding up and shakes it a few times. “Pudding? Since when did—“

 

“Don’t touch that,” I snap at her while snatching it from her.

 

“So stingy!” She tosses the pudding into the fridge and rolls her eyes. “You really suck, Tae Tae.”

 

“Yup. I know.”

 

“You know, most people don’t agree with these things?”

 

I correct her, “And most people don’t say these things either.”

 

“Gah!” She shakes her head to shriek. “You really drive me up the wall sometimes, Tae.”

 

“So . . . what are you really doing here?”

 

She flashes a syrupy smile. “I missed you. It’s so boring at the dorm,” she sighs and wraps her arms around me. My heart tingles as soon as I sense her touch. She really has a way of entering my heart. She is too good at teasing me, and I have no choice, but to succumb to her advances. I feel her head rest on my shoulder as she continues to say, “I’m really lonely . . . Tae Tae. Namjoon . . . I think . . . he’s cheating on me.”

 

“What?” I push her away to ask. “He’s . . . cheating on you? For real?”

 

Staring at me with wavering eyes, she sputters, “He . . . isn’t answering any of my calls or texts! Do you think he’s secretly seeing someone, Tae?”

 

Then, I realize that this is one of her phases. She always feels so insecure around Namjoon when he is away from her. I remember whenever Namjoon had to go to a baseball tournament out of the city, she would be worried that he’d fall for one of his fans. She would have to sleep over at my place. I think she only became this insecure after her first boyfriend cheated on her with one of her best friends. I know I should relate to her, but I’m tired. I’m tired of making sure that she feels safe. If she’s that unsettled with this relationship, then she should just break up with him. If she can’t even trust him, then why would she even date him? Why am I taking over his responsibility as a boyfriend? Why am I playing the nice guy?

 

Still, I know now is not the time to explode, so I calmly reassure her, “He’s probably just studying.”

 

“Then why can’t he reply to my text at least? And it’s just the start of school! How can he be reviewing already?” she shrieks at me.

 

“How long was your text this time?” I ask.

 

“I just typed five sentences.”

 

“And how many ‘ands’ did you include this time?”

“All right,” she sulks while crossing her arms, “maybe I do text too much, but I just want to know that he’s okay and well, I . . . want to know that he cares about me!”

 

I let out a sigh before ordering, “Give me your cell phone.”

 

“Wh-wh-what?”

 

“I said give me your cell phone,” I repeat in the same robotic tone.

 

I extend my palm out and eventually, she places her phone on there. I quickly type a text stating that I’m comforting a crying Sungkyung in my arms. She’s hugging onto me real tightly, I purposely add. I also include that I’m probably sleeping over at her place since we’re both studying so hard. Actually, I am studying. She’s the one that’s complaining. Of course, I don’t tell him the truth though. That’d be stupid.

 

“What’d you type?” she wonders aloud.

 

I put the cell on the table and then stretch. I think I need a smoking break, so I inform her, “You can see for yourself. He’ll definitely answer this one. If he doesn’t, then he’s either pulling an all nighter or he’s fucking someone. I hope it’s the latter, no, I mean, the former.”

 

“So . . . you honestly think he’d—“

 

“Yes, he will Sungkyung. Now, I need a break.”

 

“Are you going to . . . smoke?”

 

“Nonsense.” I lie my way through. “I’m just going to get a soda and a breath of fresh air.”

 

And there, the door closes. Sungkyung doesn’t stop me because she trusts me or she doesn’t know me well enough. Better yet, she might not even care about me. I’m thinking too much. I’m a fucking fool. I keep marching down the hall until I reach the elevators. I press the right floor, and then out I go through the front hall. I walk to the nearest convenience store to purchase a pack of cigarettes and as I reach into the pockets of my leather jacket, I realize that I am a stupid fool. I forgot my wallet and my keys in my apartment.

 

Jesus. I’m a fool.

 

“Sir?” the cashier asks. “Do you still . . . want to—“

 

“No,” I interrupt, “I don’t feel like it anymore.”

 

“All right. Have a good day, Sir,” the cashier answers.

 

I scoff aloud when I recognize that I don’t have my phone on me either. I guess I better try to find the landlord who lives in this building, but looking at the time on my watch, she is probably not here. It’s only 3 in the afternoon, and the woman has work. I guess I’m fucked. I just have to wait outside and hope that someone will enter this place. I doubt . . . that’ll really happen. I’m pretty sure Sungkyung has left the building too or is still there in my apartment waiting for me to come back. She’s too self-absorbed to realize that I have nothing on me.

 

Speaking of her, I have to know what I’m going to do about my situation. Clearly, I am not making any progress. I’m still being the same old me around her. I’m being that friend zoned guy that she goes to whenever she has relationship problems. Now, to get me out of that fucking zone, what should I do? Cut ties with her completely? Seems too crude. Kiss her? That’s too spontaneous. Seduce her? No. Maybe . . .

Suddenly, I see a guy at the door. He is stabbing his key into the hole with his head low while there is a bag of food in his other hand. Immediately, my heart starts to pound. I’m too damn lucky. I follow him to the door and to the elevator. He even presses the button for the same floor as me. Damn! I should go win the lotto now. Unexpectedly, he lifts his head and I’m shocked to my bones. It’s him . . . it’s really . . . him.

 

“Wh-wh-which floor?” He tries his best to cover his stutters.

 

“Same one,” I respond coolly.

 

During the elevator ride, there is nothing but silence. I’m not sure how to approach him or what to say. I mean, do people normally already know someone’s name before actually being introduced to him or her? If I’m able to say who he is right now, isn’t that rather odd? I guess . . . I can ask about the weather. That seems safe enough.

 

“Umm . . . nice weather today right?” I ask just as the elevator doors open for our floor.

 

“Y-y-yeah,” he mutters quietly and then proceeds to ignore me. He pretty much speed walks to his room. It is extremely awkward how I am following his every move. It’s really not my fault that we are neighbours. I mean, I try not to be a stalker, but life is just painting the wrong picture for me. Fuck. Really.

 

Luckily, I stop in front of my door before him. That seems less suspicious. Unfortunately, I can only stand there. I don’t really want to knock because I really do live here, and when I think I can’t get even more embarrassed, I unexpectedly hear him stammer in an anxious tone, “D-d-d-did you forget y-y-your key?”

 

Without even trying to save my own face, I confess, “Yeah. Kinda stupid huh?”

 

“N-n-no, no.” He waves his hand at me a few too many times. I guess I really do make him worried. I mean, I suppose I would freak if a stranger waiting at the front door also lives in the same building, on the same floor and right next door to me.

 

“Well, this normally doesn’t happen,” I utter.

 

“It’s okay,” he reassures me. “We all have our moments.”

 

“I suppose,” I murmur. Then, I think of an ingenious plan. I feel a slanted smirk forming from my lips. Now, I take a few steps towards him and stare at him. “So . . . are you going to invite me over or not? Normally, when people ask others if they’ve forgotten their keys, an invitation over to their place before the landlord comes . . . happens.”

 

“I-I-I-I guess . . .” He looks away like a vulnerable lamb about to have its head ripped off by a wolf.

 

“What?” I pose. “You’ve never brought over someone before?”

Within seconds, his cheeks boil to frightening red. I feel a bit guilty for teasing him too much. He is still very, very innocent. I kind of admire his innocence. I wish I could be a white slate too, but that’s impossible when I’m completely tainted in black ink. I swear I probably can’t be recycled.

 

“I-I-I just . . .” I hear his voice linger on.

 

“Sorry . . . and . . . thanks,” I tell him. “I promise I won’t bite. I just need a place to stay before the landlord comes home.”

 

“Yes, I know,” he utters while pushing the door open. He steps inside and holds the door for me. “Come in,” he welcomes in a silenced tone. As I slip off my shoes, he apologizes, “I-I-I only have slippers for myself. I don’t really have guests over.”

 

“It’s fine,” I murmur. “I’ll manage.”

 

Jungkook rushes off to the small kitchen and reaches for two cups. “Tea or coffee?” he asks.

 

“Tea would be fine.”

 

“Y-y-you can take a seat in any of the chairs,” ghe instructs before proceeding to boil the kettle. “I’m sorry if my place is rather plain. I just moved in, so I . . .”

 

“It’s fine,” I reassure her and walk towards one of the empty plastic chairs across from a small dining table. “My place doesn’t even have much furniture.”

 

“Oh. If . . . you need any cushions, I . . . might have some extra . . .”

 

“No, I’ll be all right.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Now, there is this long silence between us. I can even hear the kettle bubbling with warm water. He is just standing there by the stove while I am sitting there. We simply don’t know what else to say. I’m not really sure where to begin. I still don’t feel comfortable admitting to her that I have noticed him before this meeting. Luckily, the kettle starts shrieking loudly, which is really a relief. I can’t stand silences in general. I’m already constantly surrounded by it that I really don’t need more of it. As Jungkook finishes making tea, I ask, “So . . . what’s your name? Sorry I forgot to ask.”

 

“Oh, it’s Jeon Jungkook,” he answers while setting my cup of tea on the table. “And you?”

 

“Kim Taehyung.”

 

Again, there is that pause. I want to break it so badly, but I’m not sure how. I’m hoping that he will do something or that time will make something occur. Still, he is very quiet. I can even hear him sip his tea, and so I do the same. After a few drinks, he suddenly utters, “Th-th-that’s a nice name.”

 

“Really?” I confirm.

 

“Y-y-yes.”

 

“Most people see me as a devil though.”

 

“You know . . . I thought Lucifer was a really beautiful name,” he utters, “but after I realized what it meant, I wasn’t sure if I should still continue believing that.”

 

“And?”

 

Flashing a warm smile, Jungkook notes, “I still think it’s beautiful.”

 

I feel my heart tingle and my throat constrict. I think that’s what I have been waiting to hear all these years, as much as I hate to admit it. Now, I take a drink from this poorly brewed tea. It tastes nice, and I can feel the warmth from the tea sink into my stomach. This feels like home, and there aren’t a lot of words I can use to describe this moment. It’s just . . . darn . . . nice. And even with messy hair and plain clothing, Jungkook looks nice. He looks . . . beautiful and he is glowing. I want to tell him that he doesn’t need to do anything more to himself and that he’s just perfect the way he is, but I know that that’s not how the world sees him. The world wants more and I have a feeling that he can do more too. So, I keep that comment in my head and savor the silence that we share.


	10. Hello and Good-bye 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've included this note in the beginning of this story, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to put this note in front of every chapter. 
> 
> This is a slow burn fan fiction. Some characters like Hoseok and Yoongi do not show up until later in the story, so please be patient with me. The tags are not misleading! The characters will appear in the later chapters. The same goes for the pairings. Also, I think it's fair to list the fandoms involved though they might not have as major as of a role compared to BTS. Minor characters are just as important as major ones in my opinion.

Just like how Jisoo promises, she emails me that day. She asks if I could show her any stories, and if we could meet up over lunch some time to discuss about the newsletter. She also tells me that this meeting would be before the general meeting. That way, she adds, I can share my ideas to all of the members.

The thought of public speaking makes me nauseous and Hoseok notices my anxiety as I pay for my slice of double chocolate mousse cake, which he recommended, by commenting, “Jungkookie, you’re frowning! That’ll give you wrinkles! Are you worried that this will be too sweet? I mean, it is richer than most cakes, but I thought you looked like you’d be in the mood for that.”

 

“Well . . .”

“Well?” Hoseok wonders aloud. “What?”

Placing my coins in the blue plastic tray, I utter, “It’s . . . hard to explain.”

 

“Oh come on,” Hoseok urges. “Try me.”

 

“Well . . . let’s say you have a secret recipe . . . that you can’t share, but—“

 

“If this is anything about baking, then I think there’s nothing secretive about it. You bake a cake because you want others to enjoy it right? So, if you keep everything to yourself, then there’s no fun in this job right?” Hoseok interrupts me and punches a few codes in the register. Handing me the receipt and the appropriate change, Hoseok remarks with a cheerful grin, “Hope that helps!”

 

I smile back, realizing what he is implying. I’m sort of amazed at how he can answer my question so well. I’m thinking about why I write. I write for myself, but I can’t just be my own audience too. I write because I want other people to learn from my stories. I want people to enjoy them and even question my characters. I want to . . . connect to people on so many different levels, and because I’m a bad speaker, it’s better for me to write. Ultimately, I would like readers. I want to know what they think of my works too.

It’s just all these years that I have been afraid. I’m worried that people will penalize my writing level. I’m nervous that no one will like my stories. I’m scared that I’m living in a hopeless dream and that writing will never be my career. Do I even want it as my job? Writing . . . just feels like a dying world too. With the Internet, people don’t really need to purchase books anymore. Is it worthwhile to jump into an already grim world? I know. I know I’m dreaming too much. I know I should hold my ground, yet I’m excited. I know that I’m secretly eager to share my stories with the world. It’s just . . . will they ever read them?

 

“Thanks Hobie,” I mutter and head for the door.

 

“No problem, Jungkookie! Any time! And oh, Jungkookie!” Hoseok unexpectedly calls out.

 

“Yes?” I turn around to ask.

 

“Are you free this . . . weekend?”

 

“This weekend? I . . . think so, but it has to be on Sunday because I have work on Saturday.” I reply. 

 

“Why? Is something—“

“Oh! That’s perfect!” Hoseok chants. “It’s just that Yoongi really wants to thank you, and remember how I said that we’d go shopping with you to help with your makeover?”

“Y-y-yeah.”

 

“I’m the sort that sticks to promises, so this Sunday, we are definitely going to be helping you out here! I’ll text you the location later.”

 

“B-b-but I don’t have a lot of—“

 

“No worries! There are tons of second-hand stores. You just have to search carefully!”

 

“I suppose . . .”

On my way back to the apartment, I’m thinking of which stories to show. I’m not really sure if there are any that I am proud of revealing. Perhaps, I should start on a new project. I sort of want to write a slice-of-life, romantic story. I’m wondering what the protagonist should be like. I think I’ll make the main character a girl around my age. Maybe, it’d be interesting to write about myself. I haven’t tried that before. There isn’t much going on in my life though. If I were to write a romance, I would need a male lead. It’s just that . . .

 

I scratch the back of my head while reaching for my keys now. I should really get back and call it a day. I’m feeling pretty tired after a day of class, so maybe it is best that I take a nap before starting to preview for my courses. As I insert my key into the lock and open the door, I realize that there is someone behind me. I guess he’s either a guest or a resident hat forget his or her key. Regardless, I pretend like nothing has happened and head for the elevators. I press the up button and immediately, the elevator doors open. Once I head in, I select my floor and like a typical person would do, I look to my left. I’m about to open my mouth to ask something when I realize that it’s him, Taehyung. My heart is rattling a storm. What a coincidence. He’s too close to me right now that I’m having trouble breathing steadily. Taking a gulp down, I stammer, “Wh-wh-wh-which floor?”

 

“Same one,” he says without even moving an inch or stuttering.

 

The elevator ride is extremely awkward. It is normal for strangers not to exchange words, yet . . . I don’t feel like he is someone completely foreign. I know his name. I understand his current love status. I know what high school he attended. I believe I know a bit too much to deem him a stranger, but the problem is that he doesn’t know me. So, what do you do when the other person has no idea who you are? Nothing really. I can solely wait for the doors to open and act like nothing has happened.

 

Suddenly, he surprises me by asking, “Umm . . . nice weather today right?”

 

The doors of the elevator open just in time and as I step out, I don’t know what to say except, “Y-y-yeah . . .”

 

I walk as casually as I can down the hall. I’m telling myself that I am tired, so I need to get home as soon as possible for my nap to recover. That is all. There is nothing more than that, but with Taehyung walking behind me, I feel my heart pound even faster. Why . . . why does he have to live in the same direction as me? Why does he have to see more of my foolishness? Why can’t I just be normal around him or in general?

 

Once I reach my own apartment, I don’t’ know why, but I take a glance to my right. Taehyung has stopped right beside me, yet he is simply standing there. I’m wondering if he actually lives here or if he is visiting a friend. He has his hands folded around his body as if waiting for something. For some reason, I blurt aloud, “D-d-d-did you forget y-y-your key?”

 

He stares at me sans expression, and in stern tone, he admits, “Yeah. Kinda stupid huh?”

 

“N-n-no, no,” I reassure him. He isn’t the stupid one. I’m the silly one that can’t even stop stumbling through my words. It feels like I have some speech impediment when I really don’t.

 

“Well, this normally doesn’t happen,” he states solemnly.

 

“It’s okay,” I utter in hopes of making up for my awkwardness. “We all have our moments.”

 

In a quiet tone, he mumbles as I insert my key into the keyhole, “I suppose.” Once my hand hangs onto the door knob, I feel a shadow over my face. I turn my head to the right again and realize that Taehyung is hovering over me with a devious smirk plastered on his face. I feel my hands get clammy and my cheeks grow warm. He’s too close. He’s way too close that I can smell his sharp, mint cologne, which is suffocating me in the process. The scent is too much to handle. No, everything about him is overbearing, and just as I am about to turn the knob and push open the door to sprint to my room, Taehyung poses, “So . . . are you going to invite me over or not? Normally, when people ask others if they’ve forgotten their keys, an invitation over to their place before the landlord comes . . . happens.”

 

I croak weakly, “I-I-I-I guess . . .”

 

“What?” I hear a slight cackle through his voice. “You’ve never brought over someone before?”

 

I feel my cheeks grow even warmer. This is incredibly mortifying. I try my best to look away while answering, “I-I-I just . . .”

I don’t know what I am waiting for exactly. I should just push through and shrug everything off. Maybe, I just want him to tell me that I’m not being weird. Really, I don’t understand what I am feeling.

 

Unexpectedly, Taehyung announces, “Sorry . . . and thanks.” I seem to have the courage to face him now, and so my eyes wander in his direction. He continues to say, “I promise I won’t bite. I just need a place to stay before the landlord comes home.”

 

Seeing his serious stare, I confidently answer, “Yes, I know.” I push my door open now, and I don’t even have the urge to run away anymore. “Come in,” I urge him. When I look ahead, I realize that my place is unsuitable for guests. Maybe, I shouldn’t have accepted him over to my place for the time being. He probably thinks I’m tacky with all these uncoordinated furniture lying around the room. I have no theme; I just have bits and pieces to support my life. Embarrassing. “I-I-I only have slippers for myself,” I anxiously mumble when I hear his shoes land on the floor. “I don’t really have guests over.”

 

“It’s fine,” he states. “I’ll manage.”

 

Oh right. I quickly wear my slippers and head for the kitchen to my right. Luckily, I have not put away the two cups in the cupboard, and so I first store my cake in the fridge before snatching them from the counter. “Tea or coffee?” I steady myself by holding onto their handles tightly.

 

“Tea would be fine,” he responds while standing there.

 

Realizing how uncomfortable this whole scene is from the way he is just posing there, I instantly notify, “Y-y-you can take a seat in any of the chairs.” Another glance at my place proves to be even more disappointing. This is not a girl’s apartment at all. I feel like a mess, I think to myself as I fill the kettle that I grab from my stove with water. “I’m sorry if my place is rather plain,” I apologize. “I just moved in, so I . . .”

 

Fortunately, this excuse seems to work for he replies, “It’s fine.” I hear his feet shuffle until his jeans brush against one of my plastic chairs. “My place doesn’t even have furniture,” he remarks.

 

I feel bad for him. No furniture? Isn’t that very uncomfortable? “Oh. If . . . you need any cushions, I . . . might have some extra . . .” I hear my voice lingering and maybe raising higher than normal. I sound like a shy, little kid. Maybe I am . . .

 

“No,” he kindly declines, “I’ll be all right.”

 

“Okay,” I murmur, place the kettle on the stove and adjust the knob to high heat.

 

There is yet another round of quietness. I can hear the sound of electricity travelling through the painfully blue lights in the kitchen. The sound of steam permeating in the kettle seems louder than usual. I can even listen to my own heart beats and breaths. If I want to, I can count those in my head. Frankly, I am not sure what I am supposed to do or say. The two of us are just staying in our positions. It’s awkward. It really is.

The kettle now is screaming, and so I do the necessary steps to prepare simple tea. I hope that’s good enough for him. I really don’t know the right ways of making tea. As I dip a tea bag into his cup, I hear him ask, “So . . . what’s your name? Sorry I forgot to ask.”

 

I head over to the table with two warm cups of tea in my hands. Resting his cup on the surface, I utter, “Oh, it’s Jeon Jungkook. And you?”

 

“Kim Taehyung,” he responds with a nod to thank me.

 

Once more, we suffer from an almost unbearable silence. I move to the seat across from him, and all I do is blow on my tea in hopes of making it cooler. I wish I can drink it right away to act preoccupied. I also try my utmost not to look ahead. After all, Taehyung right ahead of me, and his presence is almost as blistering as this tea. If I take a sip of it, then I know I will burn my tongue. So . . . why even bother?

By the time the tea has cooled, I muster the courage to compliment, “Th-th-that’s a nice name.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Y-y-yes,” I mumble.

 

“Most people think I’m like the devil,” he adds.

I feel like he is purposely noting this fact, so that someone will comment on that. That person doesn’t have to be me, I know for a fact. I notice his impatient and bored eyes, seemingly waiting for me to grasp this opportunity to soothe him. He doesn’t like his name at all. I can almost hear that piercing accent on that word: devil.

 

The funny part is that he doesn’t want to be a devil, yet he dresses like one. Today, he is clad in all black, except for a white button-up shirt. Perhaps, he just wants to conform to what everyone wants to believe him to be. Maybe it is all a test to determine who will see through this façade.

 

“You know . . .” My mouth opens by itself. I really don’t know what I am saying or why I am telling him this little story, but I do anyways. “I thought Lucifer was a really beautiful name, but after I realized what it meant, I wasn’t sure if I should still continue believing that.”

 

As expected of him, he harks, “And?”

 

I guess what I said was not enough. I guess that name has always troubled him. I’m not sure if this is out of pity or if this is because of something else, but I confess, “I still think it’s beautiful.”

 

I know deep down that I am telling the truth. Till this day, I believe that Lucifer is a lovely name. The first Lucifer may as well have been the devil, but that does not mean the subsequent ones are born to be devils. Just because Taehyung might give the feeling of a devil, he isn’t. His parents probably thought he was an angel when he came to earth. I know this man is gentle for he is smiling at me too nicely.

 

We sort of sit there until our tea has gone all cold. That is when Taehyung excuses himself and tells me that the landlord should be back now. I just nod and show him the way out. He thanks me again before he leaves, and there the door closes.

 

I let out a sigh of relief. My stomach is growling now. I must have expended too much energy trying to figure out how to behave in front of him. I really feel like my soul is finally returning to my body. Opening the fridge door now, I look to see if I have anything that I can eat before I start cooking. Oh right. There is that slice of cake that Hoseok suggested I try out even though I’m not particularly fond of a domineering taste of sweetness. Regardless, I decide that this is worth a shot. I still bought it anyways. When I cut a slice into the cake with a fork, I see the layers upon layers of chocolate. Oh dear. This is going to be rather sweet.

 

Pop.

 

I slip the dessert into my mouth, and there the chocolate melts. Indeed, this is far too sweet on a normal day. However, today, it seems to be just right. Now, I think Hoseok is right as I remember what he told me before selling this delicacy to me, “You know, Jungkookie, sometimes you just need a pocketful of sugar.”

 

“And why is that?” I remember asking him.

 

“Because it’ll feel like sunshine. You’ll get that warmth sliding down your throat as the chocolate melts in your mouth. It’s really quite the sensation,” he explained.

 

“But what’s too sweet is too sweet,” I recall arguing.

 

“Well, then you have your tea. Take a gulp and you have a perfect match,” he countered. “That’s why when I have my own bakery, I’d love to sell tea on the side. I think in life, you need a mix of two. Some sweetness to give you happiness and a bit of bitterness to keep you grounded.”

 

I take a gulp of the remaining cold, green tea. Yup, I am back to reality and here I go with another taste of cake.

 

Sweet.

 

Far too sweet . . . but I quite . . . like it. It’s rather addicting in fact. I just hope I don’t make a habit out of this. I don’t have much change to indulge in luxury, but once in a while, it’ll be pleasant to experience this again.

 

And I feel a smile forming from the corner of my lips as I suddenly remember what happened a moment ago. He was sitting just there in one of my seats, drinking tea. Somehow, I wonder . . . if he’d like cakes. Are those too sweet for him? But, I have a feeling. I have a feeling that he’ll complain about the syrupy flavour. He probably suits eating a dessert with a subtle savour; something green tea related would do him good. Then, he’ll smile again just like that.

 

Amazingly, I feel the sun seeping into my room. It’s a bit warm now, but it’s nice. It sort of reminds me of . . . him.

 

It’s beautiful and serene. This feeling. And suddenly, I feel like writing. I think I know who my male lead will be and that’ll be him.


	11. No Regrets

After that stupid fiasco, the landlord unlocks my door for me and immediately, Sungkyung leaps from the ground to greet me, “Kim Taehyung! I was getting so worried about you! You were out for so long and then you forgot your cell phone, so I thought you might have—“

 

“I’m fine,” I butt in before she can blurt anything more. The landlord is already giving me that look as if telling me that if my girlfriend was already at home, then I should have just knocked. As if I knew that Sungkyung was still hanging around here . . .

 

“Really, Tae Tae,” Sungkyung continues to chirp with brightened eyes. “What if something bad happened to you? Huh? I mean, I was really, really worried. Oh, and I’m sorry if I started to clean up for you. This place is . . .” She looks side to side before adding, “Kind of shabby . . .”

 

As the landlord leaves, I close the door behind her. Taking off my shoes, I glimpse at the floor and then around my whole area. Nothing has changed much. There are dried bits of toilet paper sprinkled on the ground. She must have tried to use soap to clean up the area and then dried it with toilet paper. I shake my head, sighing. I wished she didn’t try to do anything extra. She’s already bad at housework. Still, I know she tried and that she would only erupt in fury if I criticized her hard work. So, I settle on saying, “Thanks.”

 

“Phew! I thought you’d get so mad at me!” She swings her arm around mine and then drags me to the washroom. “Look! Look! I even scrubbed the bathtub!”

The bathtub does look . . . a bit cleaner than before, but really, there isn’t much difference. From the scrub marks, I can tell that Sungkyung probably gave up halfway after feeling bored and tired. Regardless, I put on a smile and repeat, “Thanks.”

 

“Yay!” Sungkyung now releases me and cheers. “You like it!”

 

I shrug my shoulders, noting, “Eh, it’s all right.”

 

“Just all right?” Sungkyung frowns at me playfully while pouting her puffy lips. “Mphm.”

 

“All right, all right.” I succumb to her. “It was nice of you to help me out.”

 

“Exactly!” Sungkyung points her finger at me and grins sweetly. That’s what I like about Sungkyung. She’s a cute girl, unafraid of expressing her feelings. I just wished that she’d be less dense at times and recognize who has always been there for her. Out of the blue, she suggests, “Let’s, let’s go out and eat! My treat! I feel like drinking too!”

 

“You sure that’s a good idea?” I confirm.

 

Every time Sungkyung asks to drink, this means that something bad has happened. In this case, I can only guess that Namjoon has not answered her or has given her an indifferent reply. The last time she asked to drink was when she learned that her cousin had committed suicide after her cousin’s boyfriend cheated and dumped her cousin. Since we were only in high school, we’d go to some convenience store and buy a pack of beer to drink at her place. Her mother doesn’t really care what Sungkyung does as long as Sungkyung doesn’t do drugs. Technically, we are still too young to drink, but we look old enough that no one questions our age now. To be honest, I don’t mind drinking with her. It’s just that Sungkyung now seems to be using drinking as an excuse to forget about her relationship issues.

 

“Yes, yes, yes,” she urges while using both of her hands to push my back so I move forward. “Now, let’s get going so we can find a seat and drink all night!”

 

“Fine, fine,” I grumble and remember to pick up my bag and wallet this time. “It’s your treat right?”

 

“Yes, yes,” she roars. “And stop being so stingy! How are you going to get girls that way huh?”

 

I joke and even toss a wink at her, “I don’t expect to get them. They come and get me.”

 

Sungkyung fakes a shiver while remarking, “Brr . . . that’s such a cold joke, Taehyung, but never mind about your lame jokes! Let’s go drink! Drink till we drop! Okay?”

 

That’s how I am sitting in front of a now drunk Sungkyung, who keeps muttering to me about her complaints. She is kind of saying nonsense, but out of that mess, I can still make out her concerns. She wonders if her father is having an affair with his secretary. She wonders why Namjoon can update his blog, but he can’t answer her. She also has questions about that girl who keeps appearing in Namjoon’s photographs. She says that Namjoon has told her that that woman is only a classmate, yet with her woman’s instinct, Sungkyung claims she knows more.

 

“M-m-m-men are a-a-all b-b-bastards! After getting you, they th-th-throw you away like you’re nothing!” Sungkyung extends her hand out and almost hits the waiter. I mouth an apology, but Sungkyung continues to shout and slam her drink on the table, “Huh? Wh-why? Huh? You’re a man! Tell me! After sl-sl-sleeping with me, y-y-you don’t want me anymore? Why?”

 

I guess Sungkyung finally gave up her virginity to Namjoon before he left for university. The sudden image of her screwing with him enrages me. I can’t stand her behaving this way. I’m also mad at him for ignoring her afterwards, so I gulp down more beer. I think I deserve few more drinks, and I probably would have drunk more if the owner of the restaurant had not urged, “I think . . . you should take your girlfriend home . . .”

 

I snap at him hastily, “She’s not my girlfriend.”

 

I don’t know how many times I have to correct people about this. Sungkyung is not my girlfriend. I wish she was, but I can’t lie away like this. She’s still clearly in love with Namjoon and tonight, I am just reaffirming my role as the best friend. As a best friend, I would have taken her home, but I’m sick of acting like a gentleman. As a result, I slip some cash from her wallet to pay for our meal and then give her a piggyback back to my place.

This trip takes longer than I anticipated. This is the first time I have carried her like this, and she is still mumbling. This time, I can’t focus on her fragmented phrases, and instead, I just concentrate on bringing her to my apartment. I don’t care if she mistakes me for Namjoon and sleeps with me. I want something to happen for once. I’m sick and tired of playing the nice guy when I really am not one. It’s time to show her my true colours.

 

That’s the whole premise of my mentality until I’m on the floor of where I live. Believe it or not. I’m starting to believe that there is fate, or at least, coincidence. Coincidently, as I struggle to open the door with Sungkyung slipping from my back, I see Jungkook with a large bag of garbage in his hands. 

 

Undoubtedly, his eyes meet mine. He is looking at me with much sternness mixed with disappointment. The way he gawks at me makes me feel very guilty. For a second, I am reconsidering doing anything with Sungkyung. I also sort of regret bringing Sungkyung here. I’m about to think that I should have sent her home, yet as soon as Jungkook walks by as if nothing has happened, that sense of guilt dissipates. There’s nothing wrong with what I am doing. There’s nothing wrong at all for being a devil. I’m just taking matters into my own hands. Nothing wrong with that.

 

There’s absolutely nothing . . . wrong with what I am doing, and there’s clearly nothing that will stop me.

* * *

 

I feel the sunshine warming my bare back. Must be morning, I grumble in my mind. Time to wake up and get my ass to class. I roll off my bed, which is the only piece of furniture that exists here. I reach for my jeans on the ground and as I button and zip up, I look down to find Sungkyung still sleeping peacefully. I can’t resist smiling. Somehow, I can’t wait for her to discover what has occurred. I can’t wait for her to fret and beg me not to tell her boyfriend that she and I slept together. I wonder what sort of act I should put on in front of her. Shall I play dumb or shall I tell her that she seduced me and that it was in the heat of the moment?

 

No, if it was in the heat of the moment, then Sungkyung could always tell me to forget about it. If I play dumb too, then she would ask me to cover for her. So the best trick here is to blatantly tell her that she consented and I had always wanted to do it with her too. Sounds pretty good.

 

Now I relocate to the washroom to brush my teeth. I’m following my routine rather casually. Nothing to worry on my side.

 

As I work on my front teeth, I see Sungkyung burst into the washroom with my blanket wrapped around her. With her eyebrows bunched up together, she stammers, “T-T-T-Taehyung . . . d-d-d-did . . . l-l-last night—“

 

I spit out my toothpaste and saliva and then rinse my teeth. “Yeah, we slept together last night,” I tell her confidently.

 

“Y-y-you’re joking right?”

 

I shake my head, uttering, “No, I’m not joking.”

 

Sungkyung slams her fists on my chest and shrieks, “How could you? How could you take advantage of me like that? Huh? How could you—“

 

I seize both of her wrists to inform her, “You wanted it too. You were the one that started kissing me.”

 

“Maybe I did,” she hollers, “but I was drunk! You can’t just—“

 

“What was done has been done,” I remind her. “I think you should be more worried about me telling your boyfriend about our adventure.”

 

“T-T-T-Taehyung, you can’t be—“

 

“And I have evidence too,” I utter. 

 

I use one of my hands to reach into my pant pockets and show her the photos of her naked body. Sungkyung’s pupils are pacing back and forth; she is unable to accept what has happened, which is good for me.

 

“Delete them!” she demands and hits me with her free hand.

 

“No,” I state. “Not unless you date me.”

 

“What? What are you—“

 

“I’m serious. I’m going to type his email right now.”

 

“You’re being . . . ridiculous. I’m not going to—“

 

“Okay, then I’ll forward him these photos right now. It’s Namjoon right?”

 

“Okay!” Sungkyung shrieks. “I’ll date you! You happy now?”

 

“Guess so.”

 

Sungkyung goes back to my room to put on her clothes. Even when she leaves, she doesn’t say goodbye to me and I don’t blame her. I finish brushing my teeth like nothing happens, and when I hear the front door slam, I wash my face once more with freezing water. Then, I lift my head to see myself in the mirror. Is this the face of a monster? I look the same if you ask me. I don’t feel any different either. As I wipe my face with my towel, I take another glance at myself.

 

This is it. There’s no going back now and then I make a mental note to myself that I’ll still forward these images to Namjoon when the time comes. Give Sungkyung some time to adjust and if she still can’t adapt, then it’s time to give her another push. If that doesn’t work, I have another trick up my sleeve. I scoff to myself as I double check if the file is on my cell phone still. Yes . . . there it is. I click once and the movie clip plays.

 

“More!” Sungkyung shrills as her body rocks backwards and forwards. “Ugh! More! Deeper! Go deeper baby!”

 

Time to make a copy of everything on my laptop.

 

_You happy now?_

 

Why yes, sweetheart. I think I am quite happy.


	12. Turmoil

“Ugh . . .” I mope when I see myself in the washroom mirror.

 

My eye bags are horrible and I have no one to blame, except for Taehyung and myself. The walls are particularly thin and his bedroom happens to be where I study in the kitchen. Throughout the night, I could hear that girl’s groans and shrills. She seemed to be calling out someone’s name. I couldn’t exactly hear whose name. Then there were the low grunts and huffs which are presumably from Taehyung.

 

I feel so ashamed that I had to endure this torment and I know I could have escaped these noises by relocating to my bedroom. However, I stayed put in my chair telling myself that I had to finish this one chapter. Usually, I like to write at the kitchen since the natural sun light will shine in. It was the evening, though, so I didn’t know why I was doing this. I didn’t know why I was curious or even . . . jealous? For some reason, I wanted to see how long they could go on like this and in the end, I pulled an all-nighter for no reason. After all, my word count had not increased ever since the start of those noises.

 

I can almost picture their naked bodies again and I feel myself wince. I can’t forget that stare of his when we see each other in the hallway. That was one awkward encounter. I hope he doesn’t think I am rude for staring too much. I think I was just in too much shock. From what I remember, I believe that girl had a boyfriend. Did she break up with him already or . . . had she always been with Taehyung? I know I shouldn’t care, yet I find myself pondering this question in the early morning. Even worse, she seemed to be very intoxicated. Did she even . . . consent to what had happened? I let out a sigh and tell myself not to think of the worst. Taehyung couldn’t be that type of person.

 

I decide that I need a shower and hurry to school. At this rate, I will be late for class and will have to skip breakfast. I also have to meet Jisoo over lunch to discuss the newsletter; it’s really my fault for becoming rather inspired and then emailing her to tell her that I will be able to show her one of my new works the next day. In fact, I only managed to finish a chapter. After all that noise last night, my inspiration jolted. I’m not even sure if I can continue writing for this male lead.

 

Luckily, I force myself to speed up my routine and make my way to where Hoseok works. As soon as Hoseok takes note of my presence, he waves at me ecstatically and calls out, “Hi Jungkookie! Hi, hi, hi! How’s the . . . oh my, Jungkookie, you look awful!”

 

I mutter and reach for any of the buns beside the counter, “Thanks.”

 

“No really,” Hoseok emphasizes and even leans forward to examine me. “What happened? You look like you didn’t sleep all night!”

 

“You’re right,” I agree while handing him the exact change. “I didn’t sleep.”

 

“Why not?” Hoseok wonders.

 

“Ugh . . . my neighbour brought over a girl and so . . .”

 

“Oh . . . that sucks.” Just as I’m about to leave, he shouts, “Hang on! Grab a bottle of tea or something to drink before you leave! You need to replenish yourself with water!”

 

“You sure? I mean, I’m really—“

 

“My treat,” Hoseok utters. “I feel bad for you. Hope you have a good day and don’t forget about Sunday!”

 

“You too!” I wave at him and hurry to the station. “And I know! I’ll be there! Thanks!”

 

I don’t know why I am caring so much about Taehyung and her. It’s really none of my business, yet images of couples remind me of the two of them. My mind is so worn down that during the important meeting with Jisoo, I tune out. I don’t know what to offer and Jisoo even comments, “Maybe . . . we should do this another day. You seem pretty out of it.”

 

“Oh no,” I rapidly inform her. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night. Noisy neighbours.”

 

Jisoo makes a delayed ‘O’ with her mouth. “Oh . . . I see . . .”

 

Clearly she doesn’t believe me, so I decide to admit to her, “Actually . . . I’m not really sure why I can’t concentrate.”

 

“What’s wrong?” she kindly asks. “Love problems?”

 

I shrug my shoulders, unsure if I can label this a boy issue. Do I even like Taehyung like that? I barely even know him. The way I feel about him is completely different from how I felt towards Yugyeom. With Yugyeom, I knew instantly that I was in love with him. My heart skipped way too frequently. I would constantly think about him. I wanted to search for him. My whole mind was preoccupied by him, yet with Taehyung, it’s like a hidden parasite that irks my mind painfully from time to time. He’s feeding on me. I know it, and I’m not really sure how to get rid of him. He’s the sort that’ll be stuck on your mind and you wouldn’t even know it until much, much later.

 

Do I have it badly then, I wonder to myself.

 

No, I don’t. I’m just bothered by his sexual act with her. That’s all. If someone else were making love to another lady, then I’d feel the same way. It’s really just the act that is pestering me, and so, I reassure Jisoo, “It’s nothing really. Honestly . . . just lack of sleep and a neighbour issue. Nothing huge.”

 

“Okay, good,” Jisoo says. “Now, I think it would be quite interesting to feature a chapter of your story once a week. What just needs to be changed is that you’d write it as a fan fiction, so we’ll pick a pairing for you. I think that way, people will also start to appreciate . . .”

 

I half listen to whatever Jisoo discusses and I also share my input. Next month will be the first issue of the manga newsletter, and next week will be the first meeting for the club. She says there are more interviews that need to be conducted for the leftover executive positions, and that is why our meeting is delayed till next week. Moreover, Jisoo expects me to have at least two more chapters completed by next week. Since we will publish a weekly newsletter, I have to be ahead to make sure that I have enough time to think about my story and that there is room for editing.

 

Her request, however, is going to be very difficult to fulfill now that I feel like all of my inspiration has dissipated. I’m not really sure how I want to portray my male lead. I don’t know how to progress my story. He isn’t who I thought he was? Did I beautify him in any way? Did I place him on a pedestal or was I so blind that I could only see his good sides? Maybe he only revealed his best traits to me? I don’t know. I really don’t know, and I’m going to get a headache if I keep thinking about this at the current state I am in.

A sleepless night is mentally draining, so I don’t need to add on any other factors. Licking my bottom lip, I realize how chapped my lips are. I look in my bag for the drink that Hoseok gave me while heading for my next class: Latin American literature. I crack open the bottle cap and take a quick sip of water. The cool water slides down my throat and ices my stomach, awakening me in the process. I feel slightly better and less groggy. Thank goodness Hoseok gave me this treat. I’ll be sure to pay him back another time. He’s a good guy. If he’s that nice to his friends, then he probably treats his boyfriend like royalty. Lucky guy, I think as I swipe the remaining droplets of liquid on my mouth with my sleeve.

 

Ring. Ring. Ring.

 

Quickly, I retrieve my phone from my bag and answer, “Hello?”

 

“Oh morning, JK! It’s me, Jin! How’s everything going? All settled in now?”

 

I’m almost near the building to my English class as I reply, “Oh hi Jin. Everything is . . . fine. I’m still sort of unpacking, but I’m getting there. How’s everything for you?”

 

“About that . . .” Jin mumbles over the phone. “I was wondering if you could take my shift this Saturday? Like instead of you doing the morning to early afternoon, you’d take the evening?”

 

“Oh. How come?” I use my other hand to push open the door.

 

“My girlfriend just got promoted at her job, so we want to go out and celebrate. We haven’t really had time to . . . you know . . .”

 

“All right,” I agree, knowing how much Jin focuses on his girlfriend. “Just this time, okay?”

 

“Yay! Thanks JK! You’re awesome! Bye!”

 

Jin hangs up just like that, and I let out a smile along with a sigh. I guess this is what happens when you have a girlfriend. Everything about her seems far more important than all the other things your life. I wonder . . . if I’d be like that when I’m in love. Will I push aside everything for that one man? Is it even worth it? What happens if the man discards you in the end or doesn’t see you the same way? Are you supposed to say that love is all about giving and sacrificing? Is it too much to ask to take more than you give?

 

Suddenly, I feel something or rather someone bump into my arm. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” I hear a sweet, high-pitched voice say to me. I look ahead and realize that it’s her. It’s that girl that is always with Taehyung.

 

“It’s . . . okay.” I try my best to sound nice and proceed to move onto find my class.

 

Unfortunately, the girl seizes my forearm, and with large, doe-like eyes, she begs, “C-c-c-can you help me find my class? I’m taking Latin American literature and—“

 

“I’m taking that too,” I calmly tell her.

 

The girl flashes me a wondrous, cute smile while grasping both of my hands now. “Oh my god!” she shrieks. “Me too! What a coincidence! Let’s be seat mates then!” Before I can even say anything, she continues to sputter with brightened eyes, “I’m Lee Sungkyung! Nice to meet you!”

 

I have no choice but to answer, “I’m . . . Jeon Jungkook. Nice to meet you too.”

 

Sungkyung finally lets go of my hands to skip ahead of me. Turning back to grin beautifully at me, she remarks, “Let’s find the class together! It’s room 107 right? So that should be on this floor!”

 

I watch her scavenge the area with much attentiveness. I am simply following behind her, letting her do all the work. Actually, I think I’m just trying to understand her. I’m not sure why I would even do that. Why am I concentrating on her anyways? It’s not like I will use her in my story. Nevertheless, I observe her every move. I still remember the first time I saw her with him. I had an idea as to why he would fall for her, but watching her so closely, I can fully understand how she captured his heart. She’s like a work of art by Botticelli. There’s this goddess feeling that I get from her. She’s also always smiling and spreading her happiness with everyone around her. There doesn’t seem like a thing that could bring her down. She is overloading in sweetness and that reminds me very, very much of that double chocolate mousse Hoseok recommended. She seems like the sort that would enjoy that taste. After all, she embodies that aura.

 

_“Harder, baby. Harder! Ah! Ah! Ah!” she screams as he rams into her body._

 

I flinch at the image and voice that flash in my head. What am I even visualizing? What am I even doing?

 

“Jungkook! I think I found the place!” Sungkyung skips in delight as she greets me enthusiastically.

 

I give her a weak nod and grin politely. “That’s good,” I utter.

 

Then I reach for my water bottle in my purse and take a large gulp this time.

 

This . . . tastes more like me.


	13. Interview with a Devil 1

I hate interviews. We show our fakest sides and boast our qualifications. The whole thing is a show. We’re just auditioning for another role by pretending to fit that job. Our resumes are tweaked to mold ourselves to the appropriate roles. We add a few more adjectives here and there. Maybe, we fake a few references. Everything is done for the job. What’s worse is when the position is actually already taken, and you’re there just to put on a spectacle.

 

So here’s my best responsible face. Take that, I think as I adjust my button-up shirt. I better make it into this silly club. I better be president next year too. That means I’ll have to win over people’s hearts during this time. Fun stuff. Time to go try out for the Oscars.

 

I bolt open the door of the interview room. The interviewers, the same girl and guy I met on club’s day, almost jump from their seats. Hit them with a bang, I think. “Hello, I am Kim Taehyung,” I bow and introduce myself.

 

There I go and act like a passionate, determined soul. I twist stories about my volunteering experiences to cater to this job. I need to say that I have experience in designing posters and maintain websites. I also need to blab about how well I can work in groups. I put on my best smile as I try to explain how I was able to delegate work among a group or how I solved a member’s indecent behaviour. I think I have learned from Jimin a thing or two. He says to read the people’s reactions as you tell your story slowly. He says that he knows how well he is doing in a screen testing, interview or audition like that. If they nod, then they like you. If they frown, then they probably don’t like what you’re saying. If they ask you an additional question about your availability at the end, then chances are you have landed your gig. And surely, these two executives do pop that question. Score. I think I put on a swell performance.

Really. I’m just making hyperboles, and after this nonsense, I change my clothes and head for the closest food court. I hate being in suits, so that's why I brought an extra set of clothes. Since I’m in the arts building already, I settle on eating here by myself. When I finish ordering a burger, I scavenge the area for a table. It doesn’t take very long for me to spot Sungkyung and . . . Jungkook? What are those two doing together? How do they even know each other?

 

The world is really too small, and just when I am thinking of avoiding the two, Sungkyung spots me and glares at me. Yeah, I probably deserve that, but her glare causes Jungkook to look at me quizzically too. Jungkook seems to be opening her mouth to ask Sungkyung something, but Sungkyung just sighs and shakes her head. Just as Sungkyung is about to gape her jaw, I rush over to their table and utter, “Oh Sungkyung! Just finished class?”

 

Sungkyung looks up at me with a bothered stare. “That’s none of your business,” she snaps.

 

Okay, so Sungkyung is still pissed at me. I’ll give her a week or two to calm down. She should understand how many years she has used me like that. I deserve something back. Still with my best forced smile, I introduce myself, “Hi, Sungkyung’s friend. I’m Kim Taehyung, and you are?”

 

Jungkook gawks at me for a few seconds. I know what she is thinking. Why am I pretending that I don’t know her? I’m not really sure myself either. I just think . . . it’s safer this way. I wouldn’t have to explain to Sungkyung about what happened when I forgot my keys. It’s just easier for Jungkook and me this way. Less hassle. Less baggage. Now before Jungkook can even respond, Sungkyung cuts in, “Just ignore him, Jungkook. Taehyung is no good. He’ll only ruin your life if you get to know him better.”

 

“Oh . . .” Jungkook mutters almost too quietly. He is looking at me as if I am a dangerous, man-killing lion. I know he is now wary of me and that sort of bugs me.

 

“Wow, Sungkyung,” I sarcastically add, “after all these years I have known you, this is how you treat me huh?”

 

Sungkyung, with her palm against her cheek, gapes at her French fry that she is holding with her fingers. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” she questions before popping the fry into her mouth. “After what you did to me?”

 

“Which you quite enjoyed too,” I argue as I watch her grip her drink.

 

“Fuck off! You can go to Hell!” Sungkyung screams and chucks her pop at me. She runs away and leaves me with pop dripping all over my shirt. I’m thankful I changed into my t-shirt. I can’t get my few dress shirts dirty.

 

As I set my sticky tray holding my soggy burger on the table, I hear Jungkook ask, “You . . . okay?”

 

Taking a glimpse at her, I see how she is looking at me. Somehow, I feel like she can see past me. She seems to know what may be running through my mind and I can tell that she is trying her best not to judge me. I appreciate her efforts and I kind of want to tell her that it’s okay. She can think negatively of me. I don’t mind. I probably deserve it anyway. I’ve always been the devil.

 

I should belong in Hell now. Sungkyung is right. I’ve sinned too much. I’ve taken the forbidden fruit because it was too sweet. I know I will be punished and I don’t seek forgiveness because I’ll never be forgiven.

 

“I’m fine,” I finally utter. “Just need to clean up at the washroom. You mind looking after my food until I come back?”

 

He takes a breath in before answering, “Y-y-yeah. It’s . . . fine.”

 

I go to the washroom, fling my t-shirt over my head and throw on my white interview shirt. Turning on the tap, I soak the shirt completely in cold water and squeeze some soap to my hands. I wipe the area with soap . My fingers start to grow numb as I scrub, scrub and scrub. I don’t care about how chilly the water is. I just want to remove this stain, but it’s not coming out at all. It’s only fading slowly to create a puddle of light brown dyed water. Dirty . . .

 

“Hey,” a guy behind me snaps at me, “are you done with that tap yet? I need to wash my hands.”

 

I glare at him, muttering, “Almost done. Just wait a second, will you?”

 

The guy grumbles, “What a bastard.”

 

“What’d you call me?” I hark at this guy who is almost half my height.

 

“N-n-n-nothing.”

 

“You called me a bastard didn’t you?” I grab onto his collars, lifting him up in the process. I throw a punch towards him, but as soon as I see him flinch, I stop right at his face and drop him to the floor. “Fuck off!” I holler.

 

The boy immediately scrambles from his feet and dashes out the door. Gross, I think. I need to use a paper towel to cover the handle to open the door now. Then, I go back to scrubbing. It’s . . . futile, I know. I know too well that this stain is there to stay.

 

_You happy now?_

 

I twist and drain the water out of my drenched shirt. Splatter. Splatter. Splatter. I stare in the mirror at the guy in front of me. Is this the face of a monster? No . . . it’s just me. I use some of the tap water to splash my face. Okay, I’m all good, I think. I’m awake now.

 

When I come back, Jungkook is still sitting there and staring into space. I feel bad for leaving him there, and so once I am about an inch away from my seat, I tell him, “Sorry about that. It was hard to get rid of the stains.”

 

“Yeah,” Jungkook quietly notes. “Coke stains are rather hard to wash. They kind of just stick to clothing forever. Hehe. At least you had an extra shirt with you.”

 

“Yeah . . .”

 

There is that pause between us. I’m not really sure how to describe this tension. I’m particularly anxious around her. I’m not sure how to behave. I feel like I can’t be myself, but then I can in some ways. Maybe I don’t even know who I am, so I don’t know how to act. What role should I take on in front of him? That’s really a tough question to solve.

 

“You know,” I, all of a sudden, blurt, “about that time earlier . . . I didn’t mean to pretend that I didn’t know you.”

 

Jungkook slowly smiles as he answers, “It’s . . . okay.” Then he looks me in the eyes to state, “I get it.”

 

I’m not sure what he means by that and I’m not certain if I should ask more about it. Should I clarify, but then again, what is there to explain? I end up sitting there, munching on my moist burger. Jungkook, on the other hand, excuses himself, saying that he has a class coming up soon. I’m not really sure whether or not he is lying and I don’t really care. He is free to go at any time. I’m not forcing him to stay here with me.

 

Bite.

 

The lettuce doesn’t even have its own crunch. The meat and bun seem to have melded together like raw fish paste. Gross, I think as I chew and glance to my left. My shirt still has this blotched stain.

 

_Coke stains are rather hard to wash. They kind of just stick to clothing forever._

 

Like what I did?

 

It’ll be with me forever?

 

I don’t mind actually. I don’t mind carrying my mistake with me because I know how to cover it, and I still think it was worthwhile. I think I should have done something earlier. Why was I so stupid all these years? If I had made a move earlier, then I wouldn’t have to sink to this level either? I’m at the level of a scum bag.

 

Whatever.

 

I give up. There’s nothing I can do by thinking about the past. What has been done has been done. I can only carry on from where I left off from. There’s really no way to turn back now.

 

_Go to Hell!_


	14. Interview with a Devil 2

During class and at lunch, I realize just how cute Sungkyung is. She’s really a pocketful of sunshine. She has so many funny stories to share, and although I expected her to include Taehyung in her stories, she seems to purposely choose ones that exclude him. She’s a real talker and by the time she asks me which school I attended for high school, I think that’s the third time I say anything to her.

 

“Oh my God! We went to the same high school!” She squeals enthusiastically. “That’s so cool! Gosh! How come we never knew about each other? That’s just so weird!”

 

“Yeah.” I chuckle nervously. I don’t dare to burst her bubble because she still is a sweet girl. Instead, I just answer, “It’s probably because we were on different floors and classes.”

 

“Oh right!” She taps her forehead once and giggles. “Silly me!” Leaning forward, she suddenly pops the question: “Are you dating someone, Jungkook?”

 

“N-n-no. I’ve never dated before.” I now quickly suck on my straw to gulp down more iced tea and keep my eyes glued to my drink.

 

“What?” Sungkyung squeals. “You’re a really cute guy! I mean, with some better skin and better clothes, then you’d be super popular! Oh, I’d fix your eyebrows too. They’re a bit furry.”

 

Staring at the beautiful girl in front of me, I sputter and feel my ears grow warm, “Th-th-thanks.”

 

“No problem! I can introduce you to people if you’d like! In fact, I think I have just the person for you! I’ll also teach you how to do your makeup, and we can read magazines together!” Sungkyung suggests enthusiastically. “I’ve always wanted to have a close friend, but . . .”

 

Her eyes dodge to the corner of her eyelids. I can tell that she has probably suffered from other girls bullying or badmouthing her. Though she is loved by guys, they probably only see her as a target. They only want to sleep with her, so I feel rather sorry for her. I can understand what it’s like to be lonely, but for Sungkyung, who always has Taehyung by her side, she probably doesn’t seem lonesome on the outside. Since she is always smiling too, I have a feeling that most people believe that she is okay with all those remarks and taunts. She seems like the type that will hide behind a smile. I wonder, then, who she seeks for comfort. Taehyung? Could it be . . .

 

“That’s none of your business,” all of a sudden, I hear Sungkyung bark and witness her eyes release a sharp glare. I have never seen her angry before. I can’t imagine her actually holding a grudge like that, but there she is, with her arms folded together and her lips pursed. I take a glance to my left and realize who it is: Taehyung.

 

What is he doing here? My jaw opens slightly; I’m not really sure if I should greet him. Would that be appropriate when Sungkyung is there? Would she get mad at me if I knew about Taehyung? From the way she reacted to Taehyung, she did not seem very pleased with him. In fact, she is super irritated. I better not complicate things and just wait for his move. That seems more polite and safer?

 

“Hi, Sungkyung’s friend. I’m Kim Taehyung and you are?” Taehyung asks curiously. He even has a dumbfound smile as if he doesn’t even know who I am. I’m . . . shocked. I don’t know how to behave. I don’t like lying, and I don’t understand why he is playing dumb with me. Am I an embarrassment to Taehyung or is there more to this story?

 

Thankfully, Sungkyung butts in, “Just ignore him, Jungkook. Taehyung is no good. He’ll only ruin your life if you get to know him better.”

 

“Oh . . .” I mumble quietly to myself.

I sneak a glimpse at Taehyung once more. He’ll ruin my life huh? I can’t really . . . picture that happening. I mean, that day, he was at my place. He seemed so at peace. I can’t imagine him doing anything to . . .

 

“Wow, Sungkyung,” Taehyung now retorts, “after all these years I have known you, this is how you treat me huh?”

 

Sungkyung is clearly frustrated with him. No, she’s showing some intense animosity. It’s obvious from the way she is refusing to make eye contact with him. I wonder what he did to enrage her. Was it that unforgiveable? Maybe, Sungkyung is overreacting?

 

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that?” Sungkyung hurdles a tough question at him. “After what you did to me?”

 

What exactly did Taehyung do, I wonder.

 

“Which you quite enjoyed too,” Taehyung retorts.

 

Quite enjoyed? I really can’t understand or follow this conversation. Perhaps, I shouldn’t be nosy anyway. This is their fight and not mine. I shouldn’t be guessing. I’m not in the position to do that. I’m just a bystander.

 

“Fuck off! Go to Hell!” Sungkyung shrieks and throws her bottle of pop at Taehyung. Then, she sprints away, leaving her bag behind. That purse along with mine is resting on the empty chair beside me. I suppose I need to bring her bag to her. I’m glad we exchanged phone numbers. At least, I can call her. I’m pretty sure her phone is in her jacket pocket. The last time I saw it, she tossed it there.

 

I look at Taehyung now. He is settling down in Sungkyung’s seat. He is covered in coke and the sight of this mess makes my chest shrivel. I feel bad for him. He looks awful too. Somehow, he looks slightly skinnier. I don’t know why, but I ask, “You . . . okay?”

 

Taehyung at last stares at me. I hold my gaze towards him because I don’t want to be rude. No, I think it’s because I feel like he is trying to read something from me. I look at him, wondering what is troubling him. His pupils are agitated. He looks conflicted and stressed. I sort of want to tell him that it’s fine. He can spew to me his frustrations if he has any. I’ll listen and I won’t judge. Sometimes, we just want someone to hear our inner feelings. I know that there are times where you feel like all you can do is bottle up your sentiments and the more you guard those feelings, the more exasperated you feel. You’re desperate, so you’ll go for anyone to listen to you. Somehow, I think . . . I’m really okay with being that listener.

 

Instead Taehyung settles on saying, “I’m fine. Just need to clean up at the washroom. You mind looking after my food until I come back?”

 

I let in a breath of air and then reply, “Y-y-yeah. It’s . . . fine.”

 

When Taehyung leaves, I release a long awaited sigh. Really, I don’t know what I’m doing. What am I expecting anyway? Why do I think he needs my help when he already said he’s fine? I’m stupid. I’m being really, really stupid. If he says he is okay, then he’s okay. I really shouldn’t care about him like that. It’s his life, not mine.

 

And the fact that he chose not to introduce me . . . is, the more I think about it now, rude. Why am I being kept in the dark? His conversation with Sungkyung too is suspicious. I don’t think they are a couple. It just doesn’t feel that way, yet they slept together last night. I don’t understand. Really, I don’t get it, and honestly, I need to stop thinking about this. There are more important matters than his relationship with Sungkyung. Taehyung is only a neighbour, a classmate, and maybe a friend. Sure, he might have helped me before, but that doesn’t make him . . . special.

 

I exhale once more and then unexpectedly, I hear Taehyung utter, “Sorry about that. It was hard to get rid of the stains.”

 

“Yeah,” I mumble. “Coke stains are rather hard to wash. They kind of just stick to clothing forever. Hehe. At least you had an extra shirt with you.”

 

“Yeah . . .”

 

There’s silence among us. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know if I should ask him why he never bothered to introduce me to Sungkyung. No, that’s not appropriate to ask. I don’t know him that well. I have only known him for a day, yet it feels like an eternity. I know too much for my own good that it’s hard for me to act like we’re actually strangers.

 

“You know,” Taehyung breaks the silence, “about that time earlier . . . I didn’t mean to pretend that I didn’t know you.”

 

It hurts. His words hurt. I don’t know why, but they do. I’m not supposed to show him how I’m feeling. I don’t even understand it either, so I try my best to smile. “It’s . . . okay. I get it.”

 

I excuse myself, grab Sungkyung’s purse, and head to the washroom instead of going to class. My class doesn’t start until an hour later. Now, I let the faucet run and wash my face with cold, cold water. Am I refreshed now? No . . . I feel like throwing up. The thought of him pretending not to know me troubled me more than I anticipated. That fake smile he shows . . . that’s not really him. Who is he anyway, I find myself questioning.

 

I know. I know I shouldn’t judge, but here I am judging once more. My left brain is telling me that he’s a bad guy. He’s nothing but trouble, like Sungkyung stresses. However, my right brain says to believe in him. Honestly, I don’t know what to think anymore. I’m not even sure what I am feeling right now.

 

Disgust?

 

Disappointment? Jealousy?

 

I don’t know. I don’t know . . . and I don’t really want to know.

 

I twist the tap shut now and use a paper towel to wipe my hands clean. It’s his life, and I have no control over it nor should I even care about it. I should just focus on what’s important in my life: school and writing. That sounds . . . right, right?

 


	15. Confessions

Saturday in the evening, Sungkyung tells me: “We need to talk”. Sungkyung and I meet at a restaurant around my apartment. It’s the one that I met that pudding guy. Frankly, I haven’t had time or the money to scavenge the area for decent restaurants. I pick that one out of accessibility and pricing and I know Sungkyung is desperate to talk. She probably wants to make sure that I have deleted all of the photos on my phone and I have on my way there. However, I have made two copies of everything on my laptop. There’s really no room for error.

 

The usually tardy Sungkyung is fifteen minutes early. She is already sitting at a table close to the cash register by herself. There are two glasses of water resting on this particular table. She keeps drinking her glass anxiously. At the speed she is drinking, she has probably finished two cups by this time and will soon need to visit the washroom. Maybe, she has already. As I stroll towards Sungkyung’s table, Sungkyung’s eyebrows raise and then she glowers at me.

 

“Why are you doing this to me?” Sungkyung demands as I take my seat across from her. “Because you think it’s fun?”

 

“No,” I chuckle, crack my knuckles, and then respond. “It’s not out of fun. You think it’s fun?”

 

“No,” Sungkyung stresses. “Then, why? You already know that I have Namjoon and—“

 

“That’s why,” I glance up from the menu I have in my hands and declare. “You have Namjoon. You had Seungri, Hyungsik, Aki, David, Yunho, and Changmin and more.”

 

“So?” Sungkyung gulps another sip of water down her throat. Then she clears her throat, questioning, “Why are you listing my exes all of a sudden?”

 

Out of the blue, I hear a familiar voice asking, “What would you like to order?”

 

One glance at him and I know who he is: Jungkook. I’m just astonished that he’s here. Of all the places in the world, we meet again. Because of him, I’m starting to believe that there just may as well be fate, destiny, and all those romanticized ideas. However, I still don’t believe in any of that shit. Maybe for a second, I do, but with everything that has happened, I think I am making those choices. I’m the one held culpable for all my actions. I can’t blame any deity, so I keep my eyes attached to the menu.

 

“Can you give us a few extra minutes?” I request.

 

Jungkook stammers, “S-s-sure.”

 

I feel a tad guilty for shooing him, but I can’t have him involved and I don’t want to explain anything to him. We should not know so much about each other. It is not as if Jungkook is my close friend. He is just a neighbour and a friend. Even Sungkyung isn’t acknowledging Jungkook’s presence, so I realize that Sungkyung is waiting for me to explain myself. I guess I do owe her an explanation.

 

Here I go: “All these years . . . I’ve been watching you. I’ve been waiting for you to realize that I’m more than that, but . . . it’s no use, isn’t it?” I scoff, “You’ll never understand.”

 

“Wh-wh-what are you trying to say, Taehyung?” she bellows.

 

I can’t believe Sungkyung still has no clue about my feelings for her. I am being as clear as I can be. Is she playing dumb with me? Does she secretly know but chooses to ignore my feelings? How could she still be smiling with Jungkook at the food court? She is supposed to be suffering in pain. When my arms aren’t safe anymore to sob in, then whose does she use? That thought makes me clench my fists.

 

“Whenever you break up, get into a fight with some guy, or even fall for someone, who do you turn to?” I holler. She looks at me completely muddled, so I answer my own question, “Me. You think about it. You know I am telling you the truth.”

 

“But you were my best friend,” she disputes. “A best friend doesn’t just . . . violate my body.”

 

Her voice hushes down at the word ‘violate’. She is probably ashamed and blaming everything on herself. She probably thinks she shouldn’t have gotten drunk. If she hadn’t, then I wouldn’t have been able to take advantage of her. That is . . . quite true. I cross one of my legs and fold my arms. Leaning back in my chair, I scoff, “And did you even ask me if I wanted to be your best friend?” Seeing her wobble her head, I utter, “No, I never wanted to be your friend. I loved you and I still love you. So if you ask me why I did it, then I’ll answer you now. I’d do anything to have you. Why? Because . . . I love you.”

 

I know I sound super corny. I don’t give a fuck anymore. After all these years, I finally have the courage to express what I wanted to say. I honestly think I should have told her earlier. It was just that simple, and there I was complicating things because I was prioritizing her first. No, I’m sick of that. I’m sick of always being the guy that cleans up her messes or reorients her life so that she can seek another man. I’m sick of pretending that I’m some nice best friend. No more of that crap.

 

So I’m waiting for her response, yet she is just staring at her fingers. We just sit there in silence with two glasses of water set in front of us. We haven’t even ordered yet, and for that, I feel bad for Jungkook. I can only say that I had no idea he worked here. If I knew, I probably wouldn’t have chosen this location to meet with Sungkyung. It’s awkward for all of us.

 

“But . . .” Sungkyung finally declares and has the courage to look me in the eye. “That’s . . . not love,” she states in a firm voice.

 

“What are you—“

 

Interrupting me, Sungkyung explains, “If you truly loved me . . . then you’d be happy . . . just to see me happy. What you did was wrong!”

 

I snicker while twisting my head back and forth, “What do you think I am? A martyr?”

 

Sungkyung, still glaring at me, answers, “I . . . don’t know who or what you are . . . anymore.”

 

“You can report me to the police if you want,” I suggest to her. “You can hate me too if you want. I honestly don’t care.”

 

Although Sungkyung’s head hangs low, her fingers are curling into fists on the table and her veins on her neck seem to be bursting. I notice her breaths becoming shallower and faster and then she finally bellows, “H-h-h-how can you say those things so easily? I can’t . . . ruin you. You have a bright future ahead of you. It’s not like you’re a serial rapist or anything, but . . . I-I-I j-j-just—“

 

“I’m sorry, but . . . would it be all right if I take your orders now?” Jungkook butts in to question.

 

Jungkook could not have interrupted at a worse time. I’m wondering if he’s stupid or if he’s trying to save the two of us. I don’t know what. I don’t really give a damn. He is interfering us and I’m not happy about that. I’m about to snap at him when Sungkyung pounces at Jungkook, sobbing in his chest, “Oh! Jungkook!”

 

As Sungkyung sinks into Jungkook’s arms, Jungkook nicely takes Sungkyung outside of the entrance. Jungkook and Sungkyung seem to be talking for a bit. Then I notice that Sungkyung’s hands are wrapped around Jungkook’s back, while Jungkook remains stationary like a mannequin. Sungkyung is sobbing, I bet. Sungkyung is crying her heart out and I’m responsible for that.

 

I want to say I didn’t mean for this to happen, but I know I can’t. I had it all planned, and now, I have to go through with it. I bear it all and I tell myself that it’s okay. This is the reason that I dial Namjoon’s number using my phone. I reach his voice mail and so I leave a message: “Namjoon, this is Taehyung. I’m Sungkyung’s friend and I have some information about her cheating you. Feel free to call me back to schedule a meeting.”

 

Click.

 

I wave my hand at a nearby waitress. “Can I get ugh . . . today’s special to go please?” I order out of courtesy.

 

It feels too wrong to occupy a table without buying anything. My previous job as a waiter has made me this way. I feel disturbed if I don’t leave any tips either. Once everything is settled, I walk out of the restaurant with my takeout and the two of them re-enter the place. I catch a glance of Jungkook’s frown. Then, the door shuts just as she opens her mouth. I wonder what she is saying. Has Sungkyung told her everything?

 

Beats me.

 

I stick a hand in my pocket and think that it is time to eat. I should probably start buying textbooks too. Studying needs to come in some time right?


	16. Confessions 2

I’m working to cover Jin’s shift and I see Sungkyung and Taehyung together at the restaurant. I want to squirm and ask a co-worker to help out, but it just so happens that he is sick. There’s only the owner and me tonight trying to cover all the tables. Now that Takashima-san is busy taking orders from table six, I have to take care of Taehyung and Sungkyung at table two. They seem to be bickering, and I know that I shouldn’t interrupt them. However, Takashima-san gives me a glare, and I know that she thinks I’m slacking off. I’m sorry you two. I don’t mean to be rude, I think in my mind. Please don’t think I’m emotionally unintelligent for asking you for your orders. I’m just doing my job.

 

“What would you like to order?” Once I approach them, I ask in my best voice and maintain a positive smile even though the pen and notepad in my hand are shaking.

 

There is a pause before Taehyung coldly utters with his eyes still fixated on the menu, “Can you give us a few extra minutes?”

 

“S-s-sure,” I murmur and walk away to grab some tea to refill table four’s cups.

 

I feel guilty for seeming nosy. I honestly did not mean to intrude. The manager frowns at me once again and points to table five. Their cups of water are empty, and a girl around my age is waving at me. I rush over to the counter to fetch a jug of water and then proceed to their area to re-fill their cups and to take their orders. I know I’m out of it today because the manager has to remind me to pick up dishes from the kitchen. Plus, I even get one of the requests mixed up. I rarely do that, and so I tell myself to maintain my professionalism if I want to be paid today.

 

Just as I’m wiping the counter of the table beside them, I hear Sungkyung state in a very quiet voice, “A best friend doesn’t just . . . invade my body.”

 

Then, Taehyung adds, “And did you even ask me if I wanted to be your best friend? No, I never wanted to be your friend. I loved you, and I still love you. So if you ask me why I did it, then I’ll answer you now. I’d do anything to have you. Why? Because . . . I love you.”

 

Immediately, I hit my knee on one of my chairs and release a wince. I hear the bell ring, signaling a new plate being finished, so I hurry back to the kitchen to fetch the dish. I can’t help thinking about that phrase. Invade her body? What did that mean? Was she talking about that day or what? Taehyung is her best friend, right? I mean . . . he couldn’t have raped her right? He couldn’t have done something like that. I mean, he says he loves her. He loves her. That phrase is biting me harder than I ever imagined. I knew he had a secret crush on Sungkyung before, but I guess I didn’t expect him to declare his love for her. Maybe, I confused his love with mine for Yugyeom. Mine just faded away over time.

 

Oh no. My throat is growing sore, and my chest is constricting. I want to take a breather, but I know better. Therefore, I set the plate to table eight, but I hear one of the customers mutter, “Mister, that’s my girlfriend’s order.”

 

“Sorry,” I bow and apologize. I hand the dish to the girlfriend seated across from him. Then, I head back to that table to finish cleaning it. I still have my cloth sitting there, making that area ugly.

 

On my way there, I hear Sungkyung’s voice once again: “I can’t ruin you. You have a bright future ahead of you. It’s not like you’re a serial rapist or anything. But . . . I-I-I j-j-just—“

 

I don’t know what is wrong with me, but I cut in, “I’m sorry, but . . . would it be all right if I take your orders now?”

 

Sungkyung leaps from her seat into my arms. She wails with tears showering down her cheeks, “Oh! Jungkook!”

 

I feel her arms wrapped around me, but I know that since I am working, I can’t cause a commotion. I gently drag her away and we head outside. Sungkyung keeps sobbing in my arms and I stand in place until I give in and hug her. I feel like her boyfriend comforting her. I don’t ask her what is wrong. I know we’re not that close to share secrets and it’s likely that she probably can’t voice her frustrations. So, she can only cry.

 

When she finally looks up at me with her teary eyes, she mumbles, “I-I-I don’t . . . know what to do. I . . . don’t know.”

 

“It’s okay,” I gently whisper and stroke her long hair. “Just let all the tears out.”

 

“H-H-He was my best f-f-friend,” she stammers anxiously. “How could he?”

I feel her arms tighten around my back, so I calm her down by telling her, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it?”

 

“I-I-I really don’t know,” she continues to stress. “I-I-I don’t remember much . . . from that night. Maybe it was my fault. I . . .”

Her tears overwhelm her speech. I pity her. I wouldn’t want to be in her situation. I guess what I suspected must have been true. As much as I don’t want to believe it, I think Taehyung is up to no good. I’m surprised that I thought he was a nice guy. Maybe, I never really understood him. I’ve only had my share of glimpses from him, yet those moments were enough to convince me that he was a good guy. He made me want to change for the better, but now, I’m embarrassed to even think of him as my motivator. I don’t want to think the worst, but from what I gather . . . he . . . raped Sungkyung or at least, took advantage of her. I don’t know. Is he a rapist then? Am I overthinking things? Am I being too pessimistic again?

 

I really hate myself for judging him. I only heard a few words. Plus, one bad mistake shouldn’t define someone, I tell myself. However, I can’t get over the fact that he might have done this to Sungkyung. Perhaps he loved her for too long that he couldn’t take it anymore. Something must have triggered him. I don’t understand their relationship that well anyway, so I shouldn’t be throwing blind guesses. Frankly, I don’t know what to think or believe anymore and I think I don’t want to think some more.

 

I’m just glad that I’m single. I’m fortunate that I’m not in love with anyone. It’s then that I see Taehyung standing there, staring blankly at me. There’s the glass window separating us, but I can still see him clearly. He is watching her sob while my eyes are glued on him.

 

_Because . . . I love you._

 

Then, I realize that it’ll hurt even more if I keep behaving this way and so I look away and focus back on Sungkyung—the centre of his attention. I’ve lost a battle that hasn’t even started. I can’t give up either because there is no such thing as giving up for something that never really happened. I don’t, I urge myself. I don’t . . . like him. I don’t like him at all. I’m definitely not in love with him.


End file.
